Four Corners, New Mexico
Little Sisters of Mercy Convent
7:00 A.M.

Josiah Sanchez straightened from his crouch near the rose bed to check the position of the sun. Still time to to feed these beauties before they were supposed to pick up Chris. He beamed at the mass of rich red blossoms bobbing in the summer breeze, took a deep breath to inhale their heady fragrance; opened the burlap bag of bonemeal and...scowled. Damn. Half empty. Not enough of his special blend to do a proper job on the dozen bushes in this bed. He would have to mix up a new batch of his special recipe. Frowning again, he tried to remember if he still had enough of the main ingrediant stored at Nathan's.

"Brother Sanchez! Brother Sanchez!"

Josiah looked up to see the diminutive, black clad form of Sister Eustace tottering towards him as fast as her cane would aid her fragile bones. A broad grin split his craggy face. Josiah adored the nuns at Mercy convent, and feisty, eighty year old Sister Mary Eustace was a special favorite. "Brother Sanchez! We have a dozen more orders for the young plants! This internet is a wonder! You must thank your young friend again for setting up the website for us!" Josiah beamed down at the excited little nun. Clad in traditional habit complete with veil, and wearing a pair of thick coke bottle bottom glasses, she DID resemble the Sister Mary Penguin of JD's nickname.

"I sure will Sister, JD will be glad to hear that. Now I can start on that new bed of floribundas." He gently patted the small, wrinkled hand on his arm as he carefully guided her to sit on a nearby bench. The convent rose gardens produced superb, sturdy plants. The proceeds of sales from these plants went to charity. As head gardener for the Sisters, Josiah could say with pride that the nuns were superb rose rustlers; adept at rescuing hardy antique varieties from old cemeteries and homesteads.

They chatted happily for a few minutes, admiring the lush beds fragrant with bloom, and swarming with happy bees. Soon, Josiah took his leave of the elderly nun. She watched as the big man carefully gathered his tools into the wheelbarrow, and wheeled them back to the potting shed. A few minutes later, a thunderous roar ripped through the peaceful morning as he tore down the drive on his ancient chopper; his battered leather vest flapping in the wind, the dark winged logo prominent on the broad back.

A tiny smile quirked Sister Eustace's wrinkled face. "Dark Angels indeed !" She snorted in derision, remembering some of the whispers and rumors she had heard about the big man and his friends. Nonsense. Total nonsense. "Just because those boys were fond of roughhousing and motorcycles everyone assumed they were part of a gang..."

---

Jackson Mortuary and Crematorium
7:15 A.M.

Nathan Jackson rolled out of the wide platform bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife. He gently tucked the eiderdown comforter back over her bare shoulder. Woman insisted on that quilt, said if he insisted on keeping their apartment over the Mortuary at refridgerater temperatures, at least she would be warm. In the silence habitual to the dark man he padded nude across the cool white and blue room to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he emerged to dress in the clothes he had carefully laid out the night before.

Glancing at the clock, as he went down the hall, he tucked several knives on his person. Nathan never went anywhere without at least three blades at hand. He shrugged into a sharply cut leather jacket, checking his pockets automatically for keys and shades. As he headed out the front door, he was stopped in his tracks by the angry buzz from the large glass terrarium in the corner. "Nearly forgot to feed Fang." He paused to open a cabinet, then carefully flipped up the hatch at the top of the tank to topple a startled mouse inside. Looked like the big snake was hungry and in a temper. The small drama was over in seconds after the forked black tongue flicked out to scent; then the powerful, fist thick coils sprang. Nathan watched reverently. The battle of Life versus Death was one he never tired of. Five minutes later he was astride his immaculate Nightwing, and joining Josiah Sanchez at the foot of the drive.

"Morning, brother."

"Good morning Josiah."

"Ready to face the Larabee temper this fine summer day?" Josiah shared a broad grin with his best and oldest friend. They made a sharp contrast. Josiah in his worn leather vest, dusty jeans and battered work boots, the chain around his powerful neck strung with charms, fetishes, carved bone beads and a heavy cross. Nathan, sleek as a big, black cat in his midnight blue polo neck and sharp black leathers. His only ornament a silver skull set on a cobra chain necklace. He looked like an extra out of Blade.

"Reckon Chris is going to be pissed anyway. Any word from Vin?"

"Nope. Boy wouldn't call anyway. Wild as a deer."

Nathan sighed. Shit. Larabee's temper rivaled that of any diamondback. Side by side the two big men thundered dead center down the highway towards Blossom's. The state trooper parked behind the billboard studiously kept his attention on his powdered doughnuts and coffee. It was too goddamned early in the morning to tangle with any of the Dark Angels.

---

Blossom's Gentleman's Club (i.e. Buck's Titty Bar) Apartments above.
7:30 A.M.

Buck Wilmington crawled from under the silk sheets with a piteous groan, narrowly avoiding a kick to the head from a slender manicured foot. Goddamn. It was morning already. Soon time to face the wrath of Larabee. He was NOT looking forward to facing down a pissed off, horny, alcohol deprived Chris. Hence a bit of overindulgence of his own the night before with whisky and women. He carefully levered himself to a sitting position, sighing with relief when his head didn't immediately fall off. Patting Ruby's shapely behind, he was just in time to catch the ankle of the slim foot that lashed out again from the bed's third occupant. Hmmm. Candy apple red polish...must be..he flipped back the sheet to check, "yep. Judy."

Standing up queasily, he staggered for the shower and the potential bliss of several gallons of hot water pouring over his throbbing head. Chris was going to be in the mood from hell, and he knew exactly whose ass that Old Dog was gonna chew into first. Goddamn. Where the fucking hell was Vin?

Ten minutes later he was standing at the foot of the stairs bellowing for JD to hurry up and get his scrawny ass in gear. Lydia, seated at the bar, looked up from the night's receipts and frowned. The curvy redhead sighed. The man could charm the diamonds off a dowager one minute, and bray like a jackass the next. And he NEVER gave up...right on cue he turned a beaming smile her way. "Lydia, darlin' you are a sight for sore eyes..."

"Can the crap, Buck. It's too damned early." She shook a fist full of bills warningly at him, only to have him catch her hand and plant a wet smooch on it. She sighed again. "Give it up Buck. You know goddamned well I'm a lesbian."

Clamping a hand to his heart, he turned wounded eyes to her. "But darlin', that's SUCH a waste..." She smirked back at him, and winked. "Not to Inez, hon."

They both snickered together wickedly before sobering. As co-owner of Blossom's, Buck's fruitless seduction of the lovely Inez was an ongoing joke for them both. Lydia and Inez had been together now for almost three years. "Has he called..?"

"No darlin, not a damned word. Boy might as well as fallen off the face of the earth. He got word on rumors of a hit put out on Chris, next day he was gone."

Buck leaned over the bar, and poured himself a quick gutwarmer. He lifted the shot glass to Lydia. "Hair of the dog, darlin." He slung it back quickly, and whistled. Regarded the bottle with new respect. "Damn. Anything you need before I go darlin?" This with his patented leer, and glance down her cleavage.

She rolled her eyes, and smacked his arm. "No Buck. But that Travis woman has been hanging around again. Claims she's doing a story on strip clubs, and working girls. Wants to interview some of the girls. Snooping for info on Chris more likely." She frowned, and tapped one long nail against the oak bar. "That woman is trouble, Buck. She's got it bad for Chris, and keeps telling herself it's business."

Buck frowned, smoothed his moustache. Travis woman was blind, as well as a tad dim, but damn; she was a fine... He winked at Lydia. "Don't worry about little Miz Travis, darlin. Let her interview a few of the dancers, and waitresses, keep her busy." He gave a deep sigh. "Just keep her away from Casey and JD. Them two can't keep their mouths shut to save their lives...especially if..." He frowned, and met Lydia's eyes squarely; suddenly deadly sober and serious. "I think Casey's started to use again, Lydia. If she has, she's got to be dealt with. I don't care how fond of that little bitch JD is, Chris won't tolerate it. You know how much he hates druggies. Sooner shoot them than look at 'em. And if she gets JD hooked..." He let the rest trail off, and Lydia nodded slowly in agreement.

"I'll keep an eye on her Buck. The Travis woman too. She will probably be back here tonight, hoping to catch Chris."

"Don't worry about her, old Buck's got the goods on her. She keeps it up, she'll learn the hard way that nobody threatens us." He straightened, dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and loped for the door, bellowing again for JD.

---

Upstairs, Back bedroom
7:45 A.M.

JD Dunne jumped at Buck's second roar, nearly toppling backwards on his ass, as he bent over the glass coffee table snorting the thin line of white powder. Shit. If Buck found out he was using coke...hell, if CHRIS found out, he was a dead man. Larabee refused to tolerate any weakness in his organization.

He glanced over at Casey. She had passed out on the sofa the night before, and was drooling all over the cushions, her long curly hair covering half her face. Either too much booze...or worse...

JD checked his bright-eyed reflection in the hall mirror as he ran for the door. He was the weak link, and he knew it. He just didn't want to be the one pushing up Josiah's roses.

---

Kensington Townhouses
8:00 A.M.

Ezra Standish protested vigorously as he was ungently escorted down the stairs of his chic condo. Buck and Josiah kept a firm grip on the smaller man's biceps and propelled him briskly along. A petite Asian girl in the uniform of the local Catholic High School watched them go from the top of the stairs. Josiah shook his head. Hope to hell she's at least eighteen.

"Now Ez, ya gotta BE there when Chris gets out. He'll be pissed if you ain't." Buck boomed jovially into the wincing thief's ear.

"Mr. Wilmington, ah implore you...why do correctional facilities insist upon such ungodly hours...ah have not yet had mah coffee...it is far too early for..."

He paused in mid tirade to glare into Buck and Josiah's grinning faces. "Pissed! Pissed?? The man is going to be irate! Not only has he been incarcerated for the past three months in that wretched hellhole of a jail without the benefit of alcoholic beverages, or the company of the fairer sex, but upon release he will shortly learn that his dearest friend has been missing for a month! Pissed is an understatement, sir!"

"I know Ez. Believe me, I know."

"One reason to stick together, brother."

"What evah for? To present a larger target? I think NOT!"

Despite his struggles Ezra was lifted and plopped firmly into the sidecar of Buck's beloved Harley Flathead. The southerner flatly refused to buy his own motorcycle, declaring them deathtraps. However he had no such qualms about equally fast and dangerous automobiles, and had been sternly warned by Chris more than once about stealing flashy, high profile, and easily recognizable cars.

Today, the Flathead was being driven by a widely grinning JD, who had eschewed his own sleek Katana, so that Buck could ride Chris's big, black Harley. The boys had been joined by Raphael, the twins Tiny and Yosemite and a few other hangers-on from the chopshop. They were grinning widely at Ezra's protests. The man was a notorious nightowl, rarely rising before noon.

"Coffee! Ah need coffee! Good lord. Mr. Dunne, must you hit every pothole in this road to perdition? Coffeeeeee!" This last a despairing wail as the gang roared down the road.

Motorists on their way to work, took one look at the cycles roaring up in their rearview mirrors, and immediately veered to the side of the road to allow free passage. They might ignore an ambulance or a fire truck, but never a Dark Angel.

---

Four Corners County Jail
8:30 A.M.

"Alright, Larabee. Your ass is out of here."

The portly, perpetually sweating deputy jailer rolled the cell door back with a crash. Chris yawned, and rolled lazily off the top bunk to land lightly on his feet. The burly man with the bruised face and swollen black eyes in the lower bunk flinched involuntarily, careful to keep his eyes averted. He had learned the hard way that the lithe, handsome blond was the notorious leader of the infamous New Mexico biker gang, the Dark Angels. It was a lesson he would never speak of, or forget.

"Later, punk." Larabee purred.

With that soft slur he was gone, strolling down the jailhouse corridor like he owned the place, sleepily scratching his belly. The man left in the cell listened carefully to the chorus of greetings and catcalls from the other inmates that followed the lean blond's progress. Hearing the outer cells door slam open, then close again, he relaxed for the first time in two months.

Blinking in the bright morning sun, Chris took a breath of clean fresh air gratefully. It was good to be out, good to be in his own clothes again. Neon orange was not his color. His denim shirt was long gone, a casualty of the bar brawl that had got him arrested in the first place. Now he wore only a pair of tight black leather jeans, his worn engineer boots and the vest sporting the Dark Angels logo; that of a kneeling, pentinent figure sporting a pair of defiant, upraised black wings.

It had been a damned long three months, and Chris was hungry. Hungry for a rare steak, a bottle of old Kentucky bourbon, and the taste of a certain tangle haired Texan's mouth. The last three weeks had been the roughest. Chris had pulled time before--hard time-- but this had been different. He had missed the company of his young partner fiercely, and the nagging itch at the nape of his neck that told him that something was not right had been growing over the past several weeks.

Top of the list Vin had not made an appearance in weeks. Buck and Josiah had visited. Buck full of piss and vinegar as always; yammering on about the latest additions to his stable of girls, the latest fights at the Saloon, business being good at the chopshop, the horse sale coming up in Taos...all the while deftly steering Chris away from the subject of the shy Texan.

Granted, Vin hated enclosed spaces with a passion; especially jails, but he had not hesitated to visit Chris in the first months of his incarceration. Sitting across the battered table in the visitor's room, blue eyes alight with laughter at Chris misfortune. Teasing him with a few soft words in that slow drawl of his. Accusing him of getting soft and slow...must be getting old...Chris felt a shit eating grin cross his face at the memory of his obscene reply, and the laser heat of Vin's return gaze. Boy had used more words that day than Chris had heard from him in a month. Usually, Vin was laconic to the point of muteness. Shy as a feral cat. Ez swore he had never heard more than two words from Tanner in the entire time he had known him.

Still grinning at the memory, he combed a hand through his spikey blond hair, absently fingered the scar that zagged through his left brow, then dropped his hand to his neatly cropped goatee and scratched vigorously. Goddamned chemicals in the institutional soap made him itch like a sonufabitch; it was a wonder that shit didn't take the hair off a man's balls. The roar of the boy's bikes as they filled the parking lot caused a small gaggle of office workers to flutter hastily past Chris into the relative safety of the building.

"Ladies!" He held the door open with a leer and wink, causing the youngest to blush and simper. He snorted. Wonder if this is where Buck recruited his last batch of girls for the titty bar. Sure looked alike. All big hair, soft cow eyes, and fruity perfume. Makes a man hunger for something lean and hard , with silky, cedar scented hair and smooth golden skin over whipcord muscle.

Welcoming whoops and whistles from his boys greeted him as they lined the bikes neatly up at the curb. His answering smirk and good humor evaporated as he ran an eagle eye along the line. He felt his insides start to clench, and a knot of rage start to unfurl. Vin was not there.

"Where's Vin?" The noise died, and eyes slid uneasily away from his face. Coldly he turned an accusing gaze to Buck as the big man dismounted from the Harley, his hands held out palm up in a placating gesture, a hangdog expression on his handsome face.

"Where's Vin, Buck?"

"Now Chris, ain't nothin happened to Vin. he's just gone AWOL for the time being. Took a little trip south, ain't got home yet." He stopped in front of Chris, and cautiously held out the bike keys. Chris's fists clenched, and he clamped down hard on an urge to throttle the life out of Buck. The Ladies' man shuffled his feet uneasily at this sign of impending rage, and swallowed hard. "How long has he been gone?"

"Been nigh three weeks now."

With a snarl, Chris pounced. One hand wrapping around Buck's throat, the other fisted into his T shirt. "Three weeks!" he hissed into Buck's reddening face. He resisted the urge to drive his knee into the other man's vulnerable groin. "Three fucking weeks, and no one thought to tell me?"

"Now Brother Chris..." Josiah spoke soothingly,"We expect him back any day now."

"Yeah Chris, you k-k-know Vin, he'll be back, probably on his way home n-n-now, and pissed off 'cause he's gonna miss your homecoming p-p-party." JD stammered, wide eyes on Buck's gasping face.

"Amigo. Vin can take care of himself. You know this for a fact." Raphael added quietly.

Ezra, for once, kept his mouth clamped firmly shut.

That fact more than anything cut through Chris's red hot rage. Vin COULD take care of himself. He had done so since he was five. His mind flashed back to their first meeting. He had been doing a dime in Yuma for assault with intent to kill, and Vin was in for armed robbery; set up by that bitch Charlotte and her shithead husband. May they rot in peace....

---

Chris was leisurely showering, the few other prisoners carefully keeping a respectful distance. Fresh from a stint in solitary, and in a foul mood, every con in Yuma with half a brain knew Larabee was alpha of the Dark Angels. That fact had been indelibly etched into their minds after Hector Matemores turned up dead. Found with his head in a toilet, and a surprized look on his scarred face. The minor jefe in the Mexican Mafia had made the mistake of insulting Chris in front of his boys, and then swaggering away. Chris had just smiled, and waited.

A commotion at the far corner of the room caught Chris's eye. A gaggle of tattooed Aryan Nation skinheads were trying to drag a fresh piece of ass into the end cubicle. Problem was, the ass was fighting back. Larabee watched without much interest, annoyed at having his shower interrupted.

Suddenly, there was a low feral snarl from within the writhing melee of bodies; followed by the unmistakable crunch of broken bone, and a thin squeal of pain. Blood squirted in a graceful arc to splash the wall. Two of the Aryans fell back; one to crack the back of his skull on a nearby sink and slump in a boneless heap, blood dripping down his ruined face. The other dropped to his knees clutching his nuts and whimpering softly. The cursing, grunting bodies parted momentarily and Chris caught a glimpse of their victim.

He was slim and wiry, lean muscle under tanned skin; long,tangled, sunstreaked light brown hair, and a feral tiger smile on the most beautiful face Chris had ever seen on a man. There was no way in hell that he could win. He was up against a half dozen hardened cons, all taller and more heavily muscled. One was edgeing in close, shiv in hand, even as Chris watched. Yet the kid laughed as he fought, blood trickling down his chin.

Intrigued, Chris found himself moving closer. The deadly dance continued, the now wary Aryans circling their prey like hounds around a wildcat. They weren't worried about being disturbed. The guards in this shithole always looked the other way. A bit of rape now and then kept the tension down, less for them to deal with. The boy spun, threw a punch into one snarling face, then whirled to kick the kneecap from under the man circling behind him. Somewhere, he had learned to kickbox. Cursing, the man stumbled back. The kid was breathing harder now, starting to tire, fighting to keep the wall to his back.

Another skinhead made the mistake of venturing too close, and got a kick in the teeth for his pains. He flew back to land hard at Larabee's feet, teeth scattering like chiclets out of a gum machine. Chris raised his head, and moss agate green locked with sky blue. All the shit in Chris's world, up to and including Sarah's betrayal faded away. The kid's snarl faded to a bemused smile. He quirked a questioning brow. Chris smirked, wrapped his soap in his towel, gave it an experimental twirl and waded in, careful to stomp the downed Aryan's balls as he went. "Chris Larabee."

Chris casually punched the man nearest him in the belly, following that up with a whallop to the back of the head from his homemade soap mace, then drove his knee hard up into the man's soft belly.

"Vin Tanner." Vin spun and took out another of the tattooed fools with a high roundhouse kick to the head. The others, suddenly cognizant of the fact that Bad Ass Larabee was casually kicking their asses, backed off.

"Ain't none of your business, Larabee!" The big, pockfaced asshole with the knife snarled. Chris gave him a hungry shark grin. "It is now, Cletus. Unless you want my initials carved on your fat ass, I suggest you move on."

Cletus Phelps hungrily eyed the young man standing shoulder to shoulder with the Dark Angel, then reluctantly moved back. It wasn't worth a piece of ass, even one as fine as this, to end up in the prison morgue. Or worse. Larabee, the psychotic son of a bitch, would wait patiently until he was released, and he would end up under the Undertaker's knives in Jackson's mortuary. He shuddered, gooseflesh pimpling his body. Every rival biker in New Mexico knew that more bodies went into that funeral home than ever came out. Nathan Jackson's cool reptilian patience, combined with Josiah Sanchez's homocidal fury made for formidable enforcement. People who bothered Larabee...disappeared. And you KNEW better then to ever order the chili at the Saloon. Or, God forbid, the barbeque.

---

Chris was abruptly recalled to the present by Buck's strangled gasps for air. Slowly, he released the big man. Buck staggered back with a groan of relief, well aware that he had gotten off easy. One hand went up to tenderly massage his throat. "Goddamn, Old Dog..."

He breathed softly, wary eyes on Chris's face.

"Sorry." He wasn't really. The urge to strangle the life out of someone was still there; but Buck was his oldest friend and he deserved better. There was never a more loyal man than Big Dog. Buck had stuck by him through thick and thin; through the Navy SEALS, a thousand brawls, even his fiasco of a marriage to that slut Sarah.

Bitch had gotten his boy killed. Run off to meet that damned reporter, Stephen Travis. Car bomb took all three of them. Was only meant for two, but Adam had stayed home sick that day... Wonder if Miss Mary ever realized that there were two sets of luggage in that truck that day. Hubby sure wasn't planning on coming home to her bed that night.

Cool green eyes met Buck's squarely. He knew Buck loved him, was a bit in love with him. Had been for years. It was the reason Buck had tolerated the abuse Chris had spewed over him after Adam's death. Buck had been there, through the blackest rage and the deepest despair. He had never hesitated to offer a broad shoulder to lean on, his mouth or ass for sex, his big body for a punching bag. He trusted Buck as he did few others, he took shameless advantage of Buck's boundless good nature, and in his own way he loved him like a brother, but he could never love him back the way Buck craved.

Buck was a born slut. Sex was a compulsion for him. He would fuck a snake if he could get it to hold still. Women were his greatess weakness, and he was incapable of not fucking any nubile female who spread her legs. Chris knew damned well that Buck had fucked Sarah after they were married. The only reason he was still alive was that Chris also knew that Sarah had initiated the affair out of spite, knowing Buck couldn't resist. The one thing that Chris Larabee could never tolerate was infidelity. Even the thought could piss him off. Strange, because Chris had his own slutty moments, especially when drunk. It was a twisted and bitter fact; but at heart it was quite simply the way he was, he demanded total fidelity.

He reached out and plucked his keys from Buck's fingers.

"You got the bitch seat, Buck. We'll talk back at the Saloon." He climbed on his bike, and revved the engine. "Don't I always?" Buck rolled his eyes theatrically, then scrambled to hop on behind Larabee. The Dark Angels whooped like banshees, took a noisy, derisive spin around the parking lot, then roared off down the highway. They ignored the obvious unmarked car at the corner.

---

Inez' Saloon, Four Corners Outskirts, Across the highway from Blossom's
Noon

The welcome home party had stalled before it even began, and it was a sober group gathered in the Saloon that afternoon. Chris had snarled at any friendly approach, and had entrenched himself firmly into his favorite corner table with a full bottle of Jack Daniel's. He had refused lunch, or even a glass. When one of Buck's girls, Nora, had made the mistake of an attempted seduction; she had quickly fled, scarlet-faced, and nearly in tears. Inez sighed. Only Larabee could manage to humiliate a seasoned whore in three seconds.

Ezra, Nathan, Josiah and Raphael were quietly playing cards by the front doors, intent on keeping a low profile. Buck sat at the bar chatting with Inez as she polished glassware, and oversaw the evening setup. He groaned silently to himself, one eye on the quiet figure at the corner table, and tapped his shot glass in frustration against the bar. For once, Buck Wilmington was at a loss. He didn't know what to do other then wait until Larabee drank himself insensible, then dragged his ass upstairs to a bed. Hopefully, he wouldn't take it in his head to go on a rampage before the liquor took effect. Buck wasn't in the mood to be a used as a punching bag, nor did he want Larabee sent directly back to jail. Hell, he just got out!

He turned hopeful eyes to Inez. "Darlin, have you...",

"...heard anything from Vin? Nada." She finished the glass she held and carefully racked it.

He huffed in frustration. "Boy picks the worst goddamn time to disappear on one of his jaunts..." He paused, catching a flicker of some unknown emotion on her pretty face. "What?" She gazed back at him, mouth pursed thoughtfully. He gently grasped her hand. "What? Tell old Buck. What have you heard?"

She answered slowly. "It is not so much what I have heard, but what I suspect..." She leaned forward, and lowered her voice in confidence. Dark heads close together, neither of them noticed the suspicious, bleary glare from the back table.

"Remember, the rumor of the hit that was supposed to happen to Chris while he was in jail? The one that the Alvarez familia in Chihuahua put out? Because he would not deal with the drugs? Guns and cars, yes, but never drugs and women? I believe that Vin..." She tilted her head towards the small TV on the end of the bar, then tapped the remote to raise the volume. There was a gaudy funeral procession in progress onscreen; complete with weeping black clad women, and grim, armed men in ill-cut suits.

The CNN announcer breathlessly intoned: "So far there are no suspects in the assassination of retired Mexican general Edwardo Alvarez. The general was killed with a shot to the head right on the front porch of his hacienda. However it is believed that the shot came from a high powered rifle from more than a mile away. There are no suspects in custody at this time and there are rumors that the rival Sanduval family is involved..."

Buck whistled. "Daammn." He turned incredulous eyes to Inez. "Goddamn. Ol Vin..."

"...went straight to the source. Si."

"Shit! That's cuttin' the head off the snake alright. He's damn near started a gang war in Mexico just to protect Chris?"

"Si. It will be a long time before they try to move their goods through here again."

"Do you think he made it out okay? Should be home by now."

The brittle crash of a half empty bottle against the bar behind them snapped their heads around. Larabee glared at them through bloodshot eyes, then shoved roughly past, weaving up the stairs to the living quarters above. He had heard everything. Inez turned wide eyes to Buck, only to find the big man already on damage control, moving quickly to follow.

Chris kicked the apartment door open with a snarl. Shit. Vin...what in hell were you thinking, Cowboy? The old killing rage was back with a vengence. His hands shook with the abject desire to strangle the life out of the idiot who had called that damned hit. Only Vin already beat me to it...where the hell are you? Not dead...just not ...dead. He stumbled over to the liquor cabinent, bent and fished out a fresh bottle; ran a frustrated hand through his hair. His head was spinning with the desire to DO something NOW, but he couldn't think clearly, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Vin could take care of himself. Vin was the master of survival.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to choke the aggravating little son of a bitch, take a belt to his ass, or just fuck him senseless. He snorted with frustration and threw himself down in the battered leather armchair facing the door, twisting off the top of the bottle and tossing back a shot as he did. Movement at the doorway caught his eye. Buck was standing in the doorway, watching him sadly. Probably thinks I'm gonna go off on another bender again. Damned mother hen. He smirked and raised the bottle defiantly, took another deep swig, ignoring the burn.

"Chris...Old Dog..." Buck approached the chair slowly, squatted at Larabee's feet, cautiously placed a hand on his knee, and shook it gently. "Ya don't need that shit, pard. Vin'll be home before you know it."

"Yeah, Buck. You know that for a fact, huh?" Bitterly, Chris took another gulp; narrowed speculative eyes on his old friend's face. "Ya know whats best, huh, PARD?" He snaked a hand out, and grabbed Buck's hair, yanked him roughly forward onto his knees between Larabee's thighs. "You gonna take care of me, Buck?" he purred into Wilmington's startled face.

He took a slow sip from the bottle, lazily ran a pink tongue along his lower lip; watched as Buck swallowed hard, and the pupils of his dark blue eyes dilated as his face flushed with desire, eyes riveted on Chris's mouth. A small smirk quirked the corner of Chris's wide mouth. You are so damned easy, Bucklin. "You gonna comfort me in my hour of...need...?" He released Buck's hair, slowly ran a teasing thumb over the man's jaw, ending with his thumb pressing gently into the corner of Buck's mouth. Just as Buck groaned, turning his head to taste; he withdrew his hand, running it slowly down the front of his worn black leather pants.

Eyes intent on Buck's face, he flicked open the top button, then slowly slid his hand down and squeezed the prominent bulge there. Buck's eyes dropped to Chris's crotch hungrily; "Jesus God, Chris!" Chris reached out again, this time hooking his hand behind Buck's head and gently pressing his face into his groin. "You thirsty...Buck?" Buck moaned, control long gone, as he nuzzled into Chris's crotch, big hands making short work of the button fly. He pulled the thick cock free, sighing with pleasure as he inhaled Chris's rich musk. With a groan, he lapped hungrily at the fat head, swallowing the thick drops of precum, cupping the heavy ball sac in one gentle hand. Happily he nuzzled the lengthening cock, rubbing it gently with his moustache.

Chris leaned back in the chair, head tilted back, eyes slitted in pleasure, one hand knotted into Buck's hair, the other lifting the bottle languidly to his mouth. Buck's dark head began to bob gently, as he suckled hungrily, one hand wrapped around the bottom of the thick shaft, the other milking Chris's silky sac steadily. The only sounds in the room were that of the men's quickening breath, the wet slurp of Buck's mouth, the creak of the chair, as Chris slumped and spread his thighs wide, allowing Buck easier access.

Buck was in bliss, had just lifted his mouth to take a deep breath and nuzzle the soft skin of Chris's belly when the icy cold barrel of a gun nudged beneath his left ear. He froze. Motherfuck. Vin was back. For long seconds all Buck could hear was the surprisingly loud tick of the wall clock. Never heard the kid come in...ya never hear Vin until its too damned late. Must be that old Colt .45...Jesus, what an embarrassin' way ta go! Least it ain't the sawed off shotgun... The barrel behind his ear never wavered, and he raised his eyes to Chris's face, suddenly needing to see the other man's expression. Suddenly, the barrel was gone from his head, and the strained silence was broken by click of the hammer being cocked.

Chris never said a word, his eyes were fixed on Vin's. Vin was white with rage, mouth set in a thin line; but his narrowed, icy blue eyes held a world of pain. He looked tired, face wind chapped and sunburned, tangled hair tied back in a long tail, clothes dusty, body road weary. But the hand holding the gun to the back of Buck's head was steady as a rock. Chris said nothing. There was nothing to say. They were not the type of men who apologized, made excuses, or fumbled with explanations. What was, simply was. He had fucked up, and there was a price to pay. They stared at each other, Buck forgotten between them.

All he could do was let his eyes speak for him. I missed you, Cowboy. You weren't here, and I wanted you. Vin lifted the Colt in one smooth motion and leveled it between Chris's eyes, cocking the hammer as he did so. Chris never flinched, met his gaze squarely, reaching for that unspoken bond that had stretched unbroken between them from the moment they met. The look of betrayal in the younger man's eyes stabbed through his gut like a cold knife.

He knew he was the only living soul who had ever touched Vin with tenderness, had shown him love. Of them all, Vin was the one who should have been the golden child. Both his father and grandfather had been Texas Rangers, and he had been a cherished son from birth. That all ended when Vin was five, when he had been witness to the murder of his entire family.

After that, a stint in a string of hellish foster homes had ended when he ran away from the last, leaving his alcohol sodden caretaker slumped dead in front of the TV. The man's throat was slit with a boning knife. Vin had had to stand on a chair to reach him. He was eight years old. From there he ran wild on the streets; growing up as feral as any alley cat and twice as dangerous. Life had honed Vin with a sociopathic edge. It had taken a bewildered little boy and molded him into something quite different. He was a stone cold killer.

Where Chris's temper flared up quick and flickered red hot like heat lightning on the horizon, Vin's rage burned ice cold. He trusted only one person, allowed only one person to lay hands on him; and that person had just betrayed him. He had killed men for less. Vin stared hard at Chris. Unfamiliar emotions flooded him. The only one he could name was rage. I trusted you. He eased the hammer down, stepped back, holstering the gun in one smooth motion. He turned, and was gone, as soundless as a ghost, leaving Chris bereft.

Chris leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed. Numb. The pain hadn't settled in his heart yet. At his feet Buck slowly cleared his throat, and started to sit back in preparation for climbing shakily to his feet. His eyes snapped open, and he stared coldly at Buck's sweaty face. "Oh no, Buck."

Buck froze again, recognizing that rattlesnake gaze, seeing how close Chris was to the edge. Chris stood slowly, one big, hard hand reaching almost tenderly for Buck's head. "Finish what you started. If I lose him, it ain't gonna be for nothing." He pushed Buck's face roughly back into his groin, and held him there as he slowly, tentatively began to work Chris's cock again. Chris took an absent pull from his bottle, green eyes bleak as he stared unseeingly across the room.

Halfway down the stairs, Vin reeled to a stop, back against the wall, breathing hard. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Goddamn son of a bitch Larabee. More of a slut than Bucklin. I ain't running no more. Cain't make me run. Gotta take a minute, got ta get my head together. Think.

He ran an unsteady hand over his face. He had to get his shit together. Decide what to do now. His world had gone from secure to shit in zero to sixty. Should be used ta that by now. Ain't gonna be Larabee's bitch, leave that ta Bucklin. Gotta take my time. Rest. Maybe stop by the ranch, load the bike. Head up to the rez, see if Charlie Truehorse is still bounty hunting. That settled in his mind, his face impassive, he headed on down the stairs.

Inez looked up from swiping down the bar, bright smile fading when she saw the look on Tanner's face. He nodded at her, tilted his head toward the kitchen inquiringly. She nodded and called an order back to Carmelita in rapid Spanish. When he nodded again towards a dusty bottle she brought it and a glass and set them before him. The Saloon wasn't officially open for business now. The only occupants were a few of Larabee's men. Josiah, Nathan and Raphael were still talking quietly in the front booth. Ezra had managed to wheedle JD into giving him a ride home to catch up on his sleep. Buck's girls had headed over to Blossom's to prepare for the evening's work. Inez watched with worry as Vin seated himself at the end of the big U-shaped bar, his back against the wall where he could see both entrances as well as the door to the toilets. He avoided the table he usually shared with Larabee.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Buck stumbled down the stairs ten minutes later. The big man's face was flushed, hair standing on end, mouth swollen. He also sported the beginnings of a hell of a black eye. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Vin still seated at the bar. When he unthinkingly started towards him, Vin raised his head and the desolate look in his eyes warned the big man not to push his luck. It was the exact look mirrored in the face of the man upstairs. Flushing, Buck turned away. A steaming Inez grabbed Buck's sleeve and towed him back into the kitchen. She slapped him so hard it made his eyes water.

"Hijo de la puta! Idiot! What were you thinking? WERE you even thinking?"

With a snarl, he grabbed her wrist hard. "Inez!" Stopped at the deadly flash in her dark eyes, and the warning prick of the sharp butcher knife she held in her other hand. He sighed, eyes contrite. "No, I wasn't thinking. I never can think when it comes to Chris. I can't say no to him, Inez." He gentled his grip, squeezed her hand in apology. Softening, she lowered the blade. He slid his arms around her, lowered his head to her soft hair. She returned the hug, patting his back gently.

Chris lurched down the stairs, not really sure where he was headed, just needing to move, get some fresh air. He stopped dead in his tracks at Inez's irate glare. Hands on her hips, she tilted her head towards the back corner. He followed her nod, and swallowed, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Vin was still here, his head bent over a plate of food; nearly invisible in the dimly lit alcove. Buck was seated at the curve of the bar, moodily sipping a beer. A few of the boys were in the front booth, carefully intent on looking elsewhere.

Larabee slowly moved towards the bar, slid up on a stool in a position diagonal to Vin's. Chris knew Vin was aware of him; but he kept his eyes on his plate, wolfing down the mound of enchiladas and beans as though he had not eaten in a week. When's the last time you ate, Cowboy? Been too busy watching my sorry ass to take care of yourself? He was at a loss, unsure of how to approach Vin, how to fix this. All he knew was that he was determined not to let Vin leave the Saloon, certain that if he did, Chris would never see him again.

He flinched when Inez slammed a steaming plate down in front of him with a bang and a snarled command; "Eat! Before you fall on your face!" Muttering to herself in Spanish, she stalked back into the kitchen. He was certain they were specific expletives and maledictions aimed at his head. Inez was fond of Vin. He stared sourly down at the plate of scrambled eggs liberally laced with jalapenos. Shit. Woman was trying to poison him. There was a muffled snort from behind him, and he whirled to glare daggers. Josiah ducked his head and was quick to point out something of great interest on the worn menu to Nate. Raphael took a hasty gulp of beer. Buck kept his head down, broad shoulders hunched.

Chris had just picked up his fork, when the bell over the door jangled. Two swarthy Hispanic men pushed inside. One was short and slim with a pocked face and thick moustache, he wore jeans, a plaid shirt, and a denim jacket. The man behind him was taller, broader, long black hair in a tight braid down his back. Despite the heat outside he had on a long tan duster. They paused just inside the door, blinking in the dim light,then focused on Larabee.

"Chris! Amigo! Como esta?" The smaller man smiled broadly and stepped forward, spreading his arms wide as he did so. Startled, Larabee swiveled towards the newcomers.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. He saw the wicked thin blade drop into the little man's hand as he stepped close; at the same time his companion sidled to the side and brought up a sawed off shotgun from under his coat. Two booming shots so close together that they sounded like one rang out from the corner behind Chris, as he felt their passage past his left ear. Twin bright red holes blossomed between the eyes of the Mexicans, and they crashed in a sprawling heap onto the floor, legs jerking convulsively. Stunned, the Saloon's occupants could only stare.

"Holy shit!" Buck swore, and jumped to his feet. He circled the corpses, kicking the shotgun to one side. He glanced in awe back at Vin. In a split second he had drawn, and made two perfect shots across the shadowy bar to take out the would be killers.

"Madre de Dios!" Raphael whistled, and knelt next to the smaller man, tucking the Colt that he had drawn too late back into the holster at the small of his back. He plucked the wickedly sharp skinning knife from the lax hand and inspected it. Nathan quietly locked the front door and drew the shade. Josiah leaned over and eyed the dead men with unholy interest. Inez took one quick look, then turned to make sure Carmelita remained in the kitchen. Vin sat back down, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and resumed eating.

"You know these assholes, Chris?" Buck prodded one of the dead men with distaste, scowling. Nearly getting gutshot put him in a pissy mood.

Chris frowned, squatted down next to Raphael for a closer look. "I think this one runs with Benito Delgado." He indicated the smaller man with a nod. "I don't know the other one."

"Chato Alvarez." Raphael whistled softly. "He is--was, El General's primo enforcer."

"Compost now." Josiah rubbed his palms together gleefully. "Big boned too."

"As long as he stays out of the damned barbeque, I don't care!" Nathan scowled at the big man. He resumed rifling the dead men's pockets, placing his findings in a heap to one side. Wallets, ID, ammo clip, a pair of brass knuckles, a few pesos, ammo clip, keys, switchblade, another ammo clip, a fat wad of cash, and a rather nice mother-of-pearl and jet rosary. These last two items Josiah appropriated. He grinned at Nathan. "For the sisters." Nathan rolled his eyes, and sighed. They were all going to Hell, he didn't care how much penance Josiah did. Raphael grinned and handed Nate the dead man's knife; knowing his fondness for blades. Weapons were examined and either discarded or appropriated. Buck tucked a nice little pearl handled derringer into his vest pocket for Ez's collection.

Chris took charge. "Josiah, Nate, make sure they disappear. Take my truck." He tossed the keys to the Ram to Nathan. "Raphael, Buck; take care of their vehicles. Take 'em down to the shop if you have to. Somebody call Ezra, and see what he's heard lately about Benito's business hours. Specifically, if he still closes that shithole of a bar every Tuesday night so he can gamble and run drugs out of the backroom. Meet me back here tonight." He gave his friends an wide shark grin, which they returned. The rival Delgados had been muscling in just a tad too far on Dark Angel territory lately. Time for some old fashioned payback.

"We're gonna give ol' Benito a little visit." Cleanup was quick. He stood back and watched as Josiah neatly rolled each corpse up in one of Inez's tablecloths, then helped Nate haul them out the back door. Inez bustled out with a mop and bucket. Buck and Raphael headed out to check the parking lot. That done, Chris turned to the back corner, and its silent inhabitant. Time to try and make amends. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and slowly walked back to Vin. He slid onto the stool next to him. The man had just saved his life, and he didn't know what to say. Best start with basics... "Thanks, pard."

Vin kept his eyes on his plate. Silent, unyielding as stone. His hair was coming loose from the old bootlace that knotted it back, and a hank of it swung down shielding his face. Chris clenched his hands, fighting the urge to brush it back from that strong jaw. He inhaled deeply, breathing in Vin's scent; wind, sun, a hint of motor oil and gunpowder, sweat, cedar. He cleared his suddenly tight throat. How the hell to get back in Tanner's good graces? He counted himself lucky to still be alive after that stunt with Buck. He'd been thinking with his dick instead of his brain. It was clear that Tanner felt as strongly about infidelity as he did.

They had never talked about it. He had never really thought of himself as being in a relationship with another man. But thinking back now, he realized with something of a shock, that he was. He and Vin had been together since their time in Yuma prison, and that was almost four years ago. Since that time, he had not had a real sexual relationship with anyone but Vin. What had started as convenient and solace had evolved into something more. He had screwed a lot of Buck's girls in the early days; after Sarah had burned him so badly, and again after his release from Yuma; but he hadn't fucked any of them more than once, and could barely remember their names. He was well and truly burnt out on women in general. Hell, he had used Buck as well, after Sarah.

In the end though, Vin was the one he always sought out, whom he slept with. Slept together sometimes so closely entangled that Vin had to pry himself from a sleeping Chris's arms just to take a piss. Chris had been blind and stupid, and he couldn't blame Vin for nearly blowing his head off. No wonder he had been hurt.

Vin wadded his napkin up and pushed his plate back, ready to leave. He was tired, still angry, and not in the mood to deal with Larabee. It had shaken him when he saw how close Chris had come to dying a few minutes ago, and he wasn't ready to deal with that yet. Worse, he was close enough to Chris to touch, and if he touched Chris now he might kill him. A strong, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist, and he was startled into looking up into Chris's s eyes. What he saw there confused him. "Don't go, Cowboy. Let me make it right."

Vin snorted in derision. "Ain't yer bitch, Larabee. Go find Buck, you want a easy fuck."

Chris slid his hand down, and entwined his fingers with Vin's, and held tight. Vin jerked in reaction. Chris's green eyes were steady on Vin's face. "No, Vin. You ain't nobody's bitch, and you ain't easy, but you are my man, and what if I'm the one who wants to be fucked?" Intent, he leaned in so close that Vin could feel his breath. His eyes never wavered. Vin straightened up, and blinked in shock. Larabee was stone sober and serious. Chris Larabee, alpha of the Dark Angels, was offering up his ass. It didn't get no more serious than that.

Vin took a deep breath. Shit! Larabee never failed to surprise him. The man was the ultimate alpha male. Yet he was ready to offer Vin his cherry to make things right between them. That fact stunned him. It also aroused him. In the past Vin had always yielded to the older man. Chris was a hell of a fuck. He never failed to satisfy. He was a wild man in bed, and had no qualms whatsoever about oral sex; but he had never offered up his ass before. Vin had never presumed to ask. Vin licked suddenly dry lips, saw Larabee's eyes drop to his mouth, and it suddenly dawned on him how much power he had over this man. Heat flared through his body, pooling in his groin. He looked at Chris, and saw that heat reflected back. He jerked his head towards the stairs. "Alright. Let's see what ya got." Chris gave him a wide leer, and as one they rose to go, only then realising they were still clasping hands.

Vin pushed Larabee through the door and slammed it shut behind them. Both men were breathing heavily, faces flushed. Chris turned to face him, white teeth flashing as he peeled his vest off and dropped it on the floor. He backed slowly towards the wide bed at the back of the room, toeing off his heavy boots as he went, hands dropping to unfasten his leather pants. If he was nervous it sure as hell didn't show. He was grinning at Vin like an old dog fox. "Come and get it, Cowboy," he purred throatily.

Vin snarled, showing his own teeth "Yer a slut, Larabee!" He shrugged off his own heavy black motorcycle jacket; dropped it where he stood, then paused, swallowing hard.

Chris laughed softly. "I never denied it, Tanner!" He dropped his pants, kicked them away, to stand naked with his hands on his narrow hips. "You're falling behind, Cowboy."

Vin hissed in frustration; normally nimble fingers fumbling to remove his shoulder rig. He draped it over a nearby chair, quickly following up with the smaller holster clipped at the small of his back, the knife on his belt, and other assorted hidden armament. Chris quirked an amused brow. "You carrying a cannon too, kid?"

"You'll get that soon enough, Old Man." He peeled off his flannel shirt, quickly followed by a henley, and an undershirt; barely remembering to kick off his boots before he dropped his jeans.

Chris sprawled back on the bed, legs wide, one hand lazily dropping down to scratch his lean belly. Bright eyes avidly watched the lean Texan strip. He smirked at Vin's growing frustration. "Need a hand...mmmpphh!" Vin pounced, and Chris suddenly had his arms full of Texas Wildcat.

The kiss was long, hot and rough. Tongues tangled, and entwined wetly; they fed hungrily off each other's mouths, lip slurping against lip. It had been too damned long. They were starving for each other. Larabee reached up to cup that finely chiseled face; held it like a chalice as he fed on his lover's mouth, big rough hands tender. Vin nibbled and sucked on Chris's mouth; tongue tracing the divet in the full lower lip, teeth closing hard enough to bruise. He could never get enough of the smoky whisky taste of Chris's mouth. His hands clutched Larabee's broad shoulders hard enough to bruise, and their legs entwined as they rolled together, mouths still locked. Chris freed one hand, and reached up to tug Vin's hair free from its ponytail so he could tangle his hands in the wild strands of sunstreaked silk. He groaned with pleasure as Vin sucked on his tongue. Nothing in his life had ever felt so right, as this man in his arms.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, but in actuality could only have been minutes. Hands and mouths roamed. Chris tilted his head as Vin nipped and suckled greedily at his throat. He would be well and truly marked tomorrow. "You still hungry, boy?" He chuckled softly, as he got a sharp, sucking bite to his left earlobe for his pains. Vin nuzzled the older man's jawline, rubbing his own unshaven jaw against Chris's beard. He paused to flick his tongue over the scar that bisected Chris's brow, delicately painted his eyelids with his tongue, dodging Larabee's efforts to reclaim his lips. Vin growled a soft warning, dropping down to work his way across Larabee's creamy chest.

He pinched and suckled Larabee's nipples, paused to gnaw on Chris's collarbones, then pushed his arms up to nuzzle into his armpits. He couldn't get enough of the taste of this man. He peppered stinging bites down Chris's torso, leaving his nipples wet, tingling and rosy, then slid his tongue down the silky skinned belly to lap delicately at Larabee's navel. He rubbed his jaw against the sensitive skin of Larabee's hipbone, silky hair trailing across Chris's belly breathing his musk, marking him with his own scent. Chris was moaning with pleasure; eyes closed, his head thrown back and tossing back and forth on the pillow, one hand knotted in the quilt, the other tangled in Vin's hair. Hellfire... Vin hadn't even touched his cock yet... goddamned Texan was eating him alive. He yelped sharply and bucked as the warm, wet mouth abruptly engulfed his straining, drooling erection, deep throating him in one smooth motion... Who the hell taught him that...oh yeah...I did... Vin pulled back to slurp at the fat head of Chris's cock, one hand grasping the root of the thick member, the other gently squeezing his silken ball sac as he milked Larabee for every sticky, salty droplet of precum. His tongue lapped delicately at the slit, eyes closed as he savored this pure essence of Chris.

Chris lifted his head, needing suddenly to see his partner. The look of pure bliss on that beautiful face nearly made him shoot his load right there. "Jesus Christ, Vin! Come here!" He sat up with a snarl, hands grabbing his lover's shoulders to pull him up into his lap, so he could claim that incredible mouth. One strong hand cradled the back of Vin's head, the other arm curled possessively around his narrow waist. Vin wrapped both arms around Larabee's neck and held on tight, legs wrapped loosely around Chris's waist, their blood heavy genitals throbbing gently against each other.

Finally, the need to breathe forced them apart. Panting harshly, foreheads touching, they gentled each other; Vin kneading Chris's broad shoulders, while Larabee stroked his hair and back with shaking hands.Vin finally spoke; "Chris...I..n-need...I..cain't..." he stammered; words failing him, as they so often did, his hands clenching convulsively on Larabee's smooth biceps.

"Tell me. Tell me what you need, Cowboy." Chris tenderly nuzzled the nape of his partner's neck, holding him close.

Vin licked his swollen lips. "I need you inside me...I need you inside." He rubbed his cheek helplessly against Larabee's. He had been starved all his life for touch. He thought he would die if he couldn't touch this man. He had meant to claim Chris, use his body roughly, even walk away afterwards. Now he knew he had been fooling himself. He could no more walk away from this man than fly. As bad as Bucklin. No, worse, I know better.

Chris eased back, still holding Vin, and piled pillows behind them, then he groped for the nightstand drawer, relieved to find a tube of KY. He smiled up into the flushed, sweaty face. "Ride me, Cowboy. Take the edge off before you take me." He flicked the top open and squeezed a fat dollop into his palm, quickly coating his hypersensitive erection. Then he gently slid his fingers back between Vin's firm buttocks. Greedily he watched Vin's face as he carefully prepared him to take his thick cock. The sky blue eyes were closed; lashes fluttering softly against his cheeks, and his swollen lips parted as he panted gently, opening himself to Chris's probing fingers. The long curtain of hair half-veiled the bewitching face, and Chris thought he had never seen anything so fine in his life.

Larabee raised his hands to cradle Tanner's hips as he sank slowly down on Chris's sex. Slowly the young man clenched and released his inner muscles, rocking gently as he felt himself settle; Larabee now fully sheathed. He could feel Chris's crisp pubic hair against his cheeks. He rested for a moment, head down, lower lip between his teeth, palms flat against Chris's pecs. A fine shudder shook his body, and he sighed softly. Chris squeezed his hips gently, cocked a scarred brow in question. The corners of Vin's eyes crinkled together in answer. Slowly they began to move together, two independent, seperate beings intent on becoming one. For a long time the only sounds in the room were the creak of the bedsprings, and the rhythmic thud of the headboard against the wall pounding out an accompanying beat to their heartbeats.

In the kitchen below, Inez and Carmelita paused while dicing tomatoes and chiles for salsa, their eyes riveted to the ceiling as the muted sounds of passion echoed down through the wall. Then they pivoted and exchanged a spontaneous high five, before dissolving into blushes and helpless giggles.

---

Inez's Saloon
7:00 P.M.

Buck Wilmington bounded up the stairs. He had some news he thought Chris would be pleased to hear. Pausing at the closed door, he tapped gently, in a familiar code. "Come in." Larabee's voice was soft. He pushed the door open and stepped inside; mouth open to bellow his usual exuberant greeting, only to be stopped by Larabee's quick shushing gesture. Chris was sitting up in bed, back propped comfortably against the headboard, smoking a cheroot, one hand resting lightly on the top of Vin's head. Vin was curled up against him, head on Chris's lap, face buried in Larabee's belly; one arm flung across the blond's thighs. He was sound asleep. The only illumination in the room came from the evening sun slanting through the windows, and Larabee's cigar. The air was heavy with the aroma of male sex.

Chris made a wait-a-minute gesture, then clamped his cigar between his teeth and eased Vin off his lap. When he twitched and mumbled in unconscious protest, Larabee bent over him and stroked his hair, whispering something in his ear. Vin relaxed back into sleep, and Chris tugged the quilt up over his shoulders. He eased off the bed, waving Buck back towards the tiny kitchen area. Then he stood and stretched, unselfconsciously nude, his heavy genitals swaying gently. Silently he bent and picked up his pants, and, moving a bit stiffly, he pulled them up long legs.

Raising his head, he met Buck's appreciative eyes. That look narrowed as Buck took in the marks on Chris's body as the blond padded towards him. His neck and torso were covered in tiny bruises, his mouth and nipples swollen, and he sported a love bite beneath his ear. What had hooked Buck's attention though was the livid bite at the nape of Larabee's neck, and the black fingertip bruises on his lean hips. If he were a betting man he would be willing to bet Ezra a thousand dollars that you could match a complete set of Vin's prints and dental records to the marks stippling Chris's skin. Larabee had just been fucked hard.

That realization jolted Buck to the core. Vin. He let Vin fuck him, when he would never even trust me enough to...I've known him 'nigh twenty-five years...sweet Jesus. It shook the big man, more than he cared to admit. He had loved Larabee faithfully for years, and up until this moment he realized, he had always assumed that one day Larabee would feel the same way. That hope had just died a cruel death. Something vital had shifted. Lifting his eyes to Larabee's challenging, diamond bright gaze, he realized things had changed between them. Chris had moved on, with someone else. That fact stung him to the quick.

Buck swallowed hard, raised one big hand to smooth his moustache. His eyes shifted involuntarily to the man sleeping in Larabee's bed. Vin had burrowed molelike under the quilt, face buried in the pillows, one foot just visible. Larabee waved Buck to a chair at the kitchen table, then shuffled over to start a pot of coffee. He smiled at the soft purring snores emerging from the quilt cocoon. "He's tired." he said softly by way of explanation. "Been on the road three days." He pulled out the other chair, and sat down across from his old friend.

Buck cleared his throat. "Been a very busy boy." He leered and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Larabee. Chris just grinned lazily back at him; eyes crinkling in amusement. He leaned back in his chair, and took a long drag from his cigar. He was very relaxed. Sitting there, barefoot, in his unfastened pants suffering from a bad case of bedhead, his normally cynical green eyes soft and hazy, he made an appealing sight. Buck ran a deliberate eye down his body and sighed mournfully; "Always the bridesmaid..."

"Shut up, Buck." Larabee ordered amiably, softening the command with a smirk. "Tell me what you've got." He tapped cigar ash out in the tin ashtray on the table.

Buck leaned in and spoke quietly. "Old Benito's been busy. Networking with the Alvarez's down south and the Horsemen up north. Reckon he planned on plowing a pipeline right through Four Corners, taking us under as he went. Been dealing coke and heroin as well as guns. Seems he struck a deal with the late General to take you out, help clear the way. He's even got the damned ATF sniffing around; 'cause he ripped off a heavy arms shipment last month from an army depot down in Texas." He snorted. "Reckon the fat bastard wants to be Boss Hogg of New Mexico territory." He nodded towards the sleeping sharpshooter. "Seems Junior there tossed a hell of a monkey wrench into the works. New patron of the Alvarez family won't deal with old Benito; he's too damned busy trying to keep the lid on the chili pot at home. Seems the Mexican police got an anonymous tip and busted their main lab, and the Sanduvals are nipping at their throats, ready to take advantage. Benito's ass is swinging in the breeze, 'cause he's got a shipment of automatics coming in tomorrow night with no buyer."

Buck gave Chris a broad grin. "To sum it up, ole pard, Benito ain't a happy man. Not only has his border connection dried up, he's sitting on a hot shipment that the ATF and FBI would give their eyeteeth for, and to top it all off, you ain't dead!" They laughed softly together, both picturing the fat Mexican's consternation at that topper.

Chris took another drag from his cheroot, eyes unfocused and thoughtful. "What time is that shipment due?" His mind was clicking with ideas, already making plans for payback.

Buck eyed him with satisfaction. Chris plotting mass destruction was a rare and beautiful thing. Something that was a pleasure to witness. The coffeepot burbled and Chris got up to fetch some cups. They sat back companionably, and talked while they drank; mainly about mundane matters. If they were a bit uneasy with each other now, they ignored it. Chris didn't apologize for his earlier treatment of Buck, and Buck never mentioned it. Buck was, and always would be; an integral part of Chris's life.

Buck rambled on, catching Chris up with the news. Business was good at Blossom's, as always. Lydia tossed out an undercover cop who was snooping around. They had just run a vintage Jaguar through the chopshop, that they had had to pry Ezra out of. Chris's favorite broodmare at the ranch dropped a little black studcolt. JD hacked into Judge Travis's financial records, and discovered he was gambling again, something to be taken advantage of. Ez's new girlfriend looked like she was about fifteen years old, something they would have to check into. Josiah had gotten in trouble with the nuns for shooting crows off the steeple of the convent chapel again. Chris chuckled softly at that, amused at the image of the huge man, head bowed, meekily taking a scolding from the little nuns. He snorted in annoyance, when Buck mentioned the Travis woman nosing around again. Woman thinks shes Barbara Walters. She had been a minor thorn in their sides ever since her husband's death. He wondered idly what she would do if she ever found out about Stephen's affair with Sarah, and the fact that they had planned on running away together.

As the evening shadows lengthened, Chris clicked on a dim light, glancing Vin's way as he did. Boy was dead to the world. He grinned. Rode hard and put up wet.

Buck saw that look, and sighed. "You want me to have Inez send ya'll up some supper?"

"Nah. I'll come down in a minute. Gotta talk with the boys anyway. Raphael's cousin Lupita still working at Delgado's bar?"

"Dunno, Chris. I can ask 'em." They stood, Buck to take his leave; and Chris to shower and change. "Better put a shirt on Stud." Buck leered. "Boys will think Vin has taken up cannibalism."

Chris just grinned back and drawled; "He can be something of a maneater." Buck guffawed in appreciation, and slapped Chris on the shoulder, before heading down the stairs.

Still grinning, Chris turned back into the room. Best to let Vin sleep a few more hours. Larabee's stomach growled loudly as he padded towards the bathroom. Worked up an appetite. The grin faded at a twinge farther south. He shook his head. If anyone had dared tell him a week ago that he would be offering his ass up to a man, he would have laughed and blown their head off without a second thought. The grin blossomed back into a full blown Larabee smirk. Hell, if he had known it felt like that he'd have given his cherry up twenty years ago. Chuckling softly to himself at his own foolish thoughts he continued into the tiny bathroom.

---

Apartment above Inez's Saloon
1:00 A.M.

Larabee cracked an eye open when the mattress shifted beneath him. Rolling over he watched sleepily as Vin shuffled into the bathroom. One hand braced against the wall above the toilet, he pissed long and hard before giving an audible sigh of relief. Sleepily he knuckled his eyes, then padded silently to the kitchen area. Headed for a drink of water, Chris thought fondly, as he eyed the appealing flex of tight buttocks.

The Texan's lean, naked body was tinted with the sylvan light of the full moon; his tangled mane cascaded down his shoulders nearly to the small of his back. Washed in silver he was a beautiful sight. Chris propped his head up on an arm, for a better look, suddenly wide awake. Vin had quietly pulled a cold bottle of water from the battered fridge, popped the lid off, and was gulping thirstily. He finished, left the bottle on the counter, and was turning to return to bed, when he suddenly paused, head tilted at a listening angle. Curious, Chris watched as his lover ghosted silently across the floor to the side windows. Once there, he unlatched the screen to admit a little gray cat.

Chris felt a broad grin split his face. Busted! This was the feral cat the Texan never fed. Amused he watched as Tanner padded back to the kitchen, the little creature twining ecstatically between his ankles, fluffy tail curling around his legs. She nearly succeeded in tripping him twice before Tanner bent and scooped her up. He cradled the little feline against his chest for a moment, gently touched her nose with his. She rubbed her face against his happily, and Chris could hear the loud purr from across the room. Vin placed her on the counter, and bent to open a cabinet. He cast a covert glance over his shoulder to where Chris played possum on the shadowed bed, before pulling out a packet of cat food; which he opened and poured into a small dish. He ran a gentle hand once down her back, then left her to her meal.

Vin slipped back under the quilt next to Chris. Somehow, he wasn't surprised when warm arms slid around his waist, pulling him close. "You awake, Cowboy?" he drawled, in mock surprise.

Larabee nuzzled the strong jaw, nipped at the soft lips. "Didn't realise you were so fond of pussy, Tanner."

Vin stiffened for a moment, then sat up and scowled down at his lover. "Reckon I got fond of 'er a mite. Good company fer when drunk cowboys git their dumb asses throwed in jail fer months atta time!"

Chris could feel the heat of Vin's guilty flush against his skin. He snickered, delighted at the quiet Texan's display of temper. Larabee loved to get a rise out of his laconic lover. The man was usually so backward and quiet; pulling a crooked smile, a blush, or more than three words out of him at a time counted as a major victory. It pleased him when Vin relaxed around him, enough to fuss, and throw a hissy. No one but Chris ever saw him like this; vocal, naked and indignant, arms folded huffily, blue eyes flashing.

Those eyes were narrowed suspiciously now, as he frowned down at his snickering partner. "You laughin' at me, Cowboy?"

"Why no, honey, no!" Chris purred, adding fuel to the fire.

"Honey! Honey?" Vin sputtered, mouth twisting as though he had just bit into a lemon. The look of horror on that mobile face caused Larabee to lose it completely, and he threw back his head and laughed aloud.

Vin stared at him for a moment, mouth open, as though Larabee had lost his mind; then realised he'd been had, and pounced. "Asshole!" He did his best to smother Chris with his own pillow.

Green eyes laughed up into his own, as Larabee smirked back at him. He reached up, and yanked his partner down, into a deep, wet kiss. Vin finally managed to squirm free with a gasp, and get in the last word. "Slut!"

The full moon meandered over the cobalt night sky, casting pools of light across the bed; painting first one broad back and then the other with silver. Silver, shadow and neon from the outside light stippled skin and hair. From the kitchen counter, a little cat daintily washed her feet and watched with golden eyes as two forms writhed as one. Vin knelt between Chris's thighs, those long legs wrapped tight around his narrow waist, as he sought to pump himself deep into his lover. Chris snarled, and held on tight, arching back as he sought to keep his man deep inside. The bedframe thumped, and creaked as the pair made their own music in the night.

Hoarse cries of completion rang out, and a small gray cat slipped away into the shadows.

---

Delgado's Taverna, Outskirts of Four Corners
10:00 P.M. the following night

Xavier Delgado listlessly swiped a dirty rag over the grimy bartop, while he kept one eye on the bigscreen TV in the corner. That Mike Tyson is too estupido to live... He shook his head, and winced at the stream of Spanish invective that streamed over from Benito's table. Benito had removed his cell phone from his ear and was screaming into it. His brother had been in a foul mood for the past two days. He had been wired ever since Raul and Chato had left to kill Larabee. Since then they had heard nothing. Xavier has the sneaky suspicion that they would never hear anything from those two again. Only an idiot walks into the den of the lion.

Raul might as well have smeared marinada on his ass and jumped into a pit of tigers. He glanced over at Benito, just in time to see him pound the hapless cellphone into plastic splinters on the tabletop.

The smokey taverna was almost empty except for a half dozen or so of Delgado's boys, a couple of hookers, and old Pedro, who sometimes swept up, in exchange for a bottle of rotgut. It was fairly quiet, in deference to Benito's foul mood. The only interesting thing to happen in the past hour had been the little chica that had strolled in looking for a payphone.

She was a lovely little thing with golden brown skin, and big liquid eyes, her head crowned with dark ringlets. The tight leopard print top, black snakeskin miniskirt, and stiletto heels didn't hurt either. She sat demurely at the end of the bar, sipping a beer. No one had approached her for one simple reason. That reason was coiled... well... boa-like around her bare shoulders. The damned snake had to be at least six feet long, and it gave Xavier the creeps. Everytime he wandered down towards that end of the bar, the thing fixed him with its beady black eyes and flicked its tongue at him. When she sweetly inquired after the location of tha Ladies' room, he was only too happy to wave her down the hall. El serpent hissed at him as she strutted past.

Rain Jackson strolled down the hall, past the stinking toilets, and straight out the backdoor; which she padlocked behind her. In the alley Ezra and a hyper JD were gently encouraging two big Hispanic men into the dumpster. They had been bound and gagged with duct tape, and were protesting this treatment with vigorous snorts and grunts. "Ah assure you gentlemen, this is the safest place for you." Ezra said, as he gleefully dropped the lid on one miscreant's head. JD Dunne was so hyped that he was practically vibrating in place. He turned to her eagerly, "Did you see, Rain? We got it, we got it all! The entire shipment is on that truck! Pretty stupid of Benito to just park it in the alley like that, huh? Don't you think?"

Rain clamped a palm over the kid's mouth. "Sssshhh. Sugar, I hear you. So will everyone inside if you don't lower your voice!" The kid blushed and nodded sheepishly. Taking a closer look at his eyes, Rain realised that they might have a problem on their hands in the near future. Buck is going to take it out of his hide, and Lord help him if Chris finds out. Coke, unless I miss my guess. She glanced over to check on Ezra, and saw that he was carefully attaching a fat wad of plastique to the backdoor. The tiny detonater beeped softly as he gently tapped in the code for the timer. He hurried to join them, and they all climbed into the cab of the semi; Ezra behind the wheel, Rain in the middle, and JD riding shotgun. Flipping open her cellphone; she speed dialed and spoke one word. "Now!"

As they roared down the alley, Ezra turned and gave her a weak smile. "Mah dear Miz Jackson, would you be so kind as to remove your serpent from mah trousers?"

Benito ran his fingers through his oily hair, swearing. It had all gone to shit. His big deal was dead in the water, and that hijo de la puta Larabee was alive and well. All he could do now was pull back and regroup. Maybe it was time for a vacation. Perhaps he would go see mamacita and abuelita in Sonora...they had always claimed he would come to a bad end...

These gloomy thoughts were abruptly banished when something metallic and shiny crashed through the front plate glass window. Gernade! Seconds later they were all knocked on their asses by a deafening explosion accompanied by a brillant flash of light. The mirrors behind the bar were shattered along with most of the liquor stock. Ears ringing, and teeth rattled, Benito clawed frantically for his pistola, and reeled to his feet just in time to face the six men who stepped through the shattered window, their boots crunching glass.

They made an awesome sight. Chris Larabee wore a long, black leather duster over his habitual black tee and jeans. There was an antique, ivory handled Colt Peacemaker strapped to his waist in a silver studded rig. He carried a chrome handled .45 caliber automatic in one hand, and a cigar in the other. There was a crazy, shark smile on his wickedly handsome face that made Benito's hair stand up. At his side, Vin Tanner, his hair bound back under a blue bandanna, wore his battered black leather jacket, and torn jeans. He had his Colt tucked into his shoulder rig, and carried a compact pistol grip Mossberg shotgun; its strap over his shoulder. His handsome face was utterly serene. To his left, Josiah Sanchez grinned like the occasionally homocidal maniac he was, as he hefted a double bladed axe. Nathan held his favorite katana; the lethal blade gleaming in the light. Raphael backed them up with a pair of twin automatics. Buck Wilmington stepped forward, a bat propped on one shoulder, and a broad smile on his face. He had a 9mm Baretta tucked into the small of his back.

"Howdy, boys! " he boomed jovially. "Thought we'd drop by with a bit of payback!"

Benito gaped for a second, then screamed: "Kill them!" He swung his pistol up and fired wildly in Larabee's general direction, before dropping and crawling madly for cover behind the bar. There he found Xavier woozily trying to sit up long enough to shake the splinters of glass out of his head. He could hear his men yelling and the hookers screaming as he scrabbled under the bar for the pump shotgun, and the uzi kept there. Thrusting the shotgun at his brother, he swore, and urged him to get up and defend himself. That bright idea was stymied when Vin's shotgun blast took out the remaining glass directly above their heads, showering them with sharp particles.

When Benito popped his head out to take stock of the situation, a shot from Larabee's .45 quite literally parted his hair. The blond was standing calmly at the nexus of chaos, smoking his cigar, pistol at ready, while a brawl raged around him. Vin stood quietly beside him, racking another shell in, covering Larabee, and ignoring the thin trickle of blood down the side of his own neck. One of Delgado's wild shots had nicked his left earlobe.

The screaming hookers were scrambling for the front door. Old Pedro had crawled under a table and stayed there, head down, and skinny rump up. In the far right corner Nathan was calmly slicing up a fool clutching a switchblade. Next to him a madly grinning Sanchez had chosen the hands-on method; disgarding his axe in favor of strangling his victim. He paused for a moment; frowning, holding his wheezing prey at eye level. "Brother, have you given your soul to Jesus?"

"Gaaakkk! S-s-si!"

"Good! Give him my regards!" Josiah swiftly snapped the man's neck, dropping him as he did so. When he turned in search of fresh sacrifices, two of Delgado's men took the easy way out and dove head first out the side window.

Raphael was laughing softly, as he methodically shot to herd Delgado's remaining henchman into the back hall. Idiots. This is a rout.

Buck stepped over the prone bodies of the men who had foolishly assumed a bat wasn't much of a weapon, to flip over Pedro's table. He reached a big hand down, and yanked the old man to his feet. "Pedro! Amigo! How's the little woman?" He beamed down into the diminutive drunk's sad, bloodshot eyes.

"Still in prison, Senor Buck." Pedro replied dolefully. He was shaking like a leaf.

"Sorry to hear about that, pard, Eulabelle is a hell of a woman!" Buck slapped a miraculously full, unbroken bottle of tequila into the old man's hands and gave him a gentle shove towards the exit.

"Gracias, Senor Buck." This as he weaved determinedly outside. It was time to go home, and pass out.

Benito swore softly and made the executive decision to run away. "Cover me!" he barked to the still dazed Xavier. He popped up to whip off a volley of shots with the uzi as he crabwalked for the back hallway. It jammed halfway through the clip, and he screamed invective as a second shotgun blast nearly took his head off. When he whirled to make a run for it, a round from Larabee's gun caught him neatly in the left ass cheek, hurrying him along. Xavier staggered to his feet, shotgun raised; only to have Raphael's twin automatics put him down for good. Larabee glanced at his watch; and gave a piercing wolf whistle. As one, his men backed steadily towards the front exit.

Benito Delgado charged full tilt for the back door, only to be met head first by the door as it was blasted inward with a spectacularly fiery explosion along with most of the back wall; courtesy of Ezra Standish's fondness for pyrotechnics. He had the brief impression of being dragged backwards naked, through a series of knotholes. Then everything became very peaceful, quiet and dim.

The Dark Angels convened in the parking lot and watched Delgado's Tavern burn to the ground. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Buck took a swallow from the bottle he had thoughtfully liberated on the way out, and passed it around. "Reckon Ez got a mite generous with the C4?" he asked, as they doubled up on the bikes; leaving one man free to ride shotgun while the other drove.

"Si, but it makes a pretty fire, no?" Raphael replied, slapping his shoulder as he climbed on behind the big man.

Nathan rolled his eyes in exasperation, revving his bike impatiently as Josiah crossed himself, and mumbled a novena under his breath. "Get on the damned bike, 'Siah. You can light a candle for the dear departed later." Sanchez gave a sheepish grin and obeyed; giving Nate a fond squeeze that made his ribs creak. "Oomph!"

"Sorry, Brother."

Chris took a long pull from the bottle, then passed it to Josiah. He reached out and gently flicked Vin's bloody ear, then popped the digit in his mouth. "Mmmmm. Salty!" Vin flushed in embarrassment at the public display and shoved Larabee towards his Harley. Chris just smirked and slung an arm over his shoulder. "You got the bitch seat, Tanner." Vin snarled in reply, narrowed eyes promising retribution. He balanced easily behind Chris, one hand on Larabee's hip, the other holding the Mossberg at ready. It was doubtful they would run into anymore trouble tonight, but he preferred being prepared.

"Its party time boys!" Buck bellowed, and with loud whoops, and louder engines they roared away towards Blossom's and their waiting alibi. Taking Delgado down had taken less then an hour.

---

Blossom's Gentleman's Club
Roughly Midnight

The party was going full tilt with no sign of slowing down. It looked like New Year's had exploded in the room. Confetti, streamers and balloons filled the air. The Delta Blues band on the small bandstand had a deep bass beat going that found an echo in every person in the room. Dancing couples crowded the floor, and every table was packed with hooting, yelling folks intent on having a good time. The harassed waitresses could barely keep the liquor flowing fast enough. This was Larabee's welcome home party and if anyone inquired, everyone would swear that Chris Larabee and the boys had been there all night.

Lydia surveyed her domain from her stool at the corner of the bar. So far everything had gone smoothly. Other then Tito and Juanito having to toss a couple of drunks out the back door, there had been no trouble. Her girls were having a profitable night; the dancers as well as the working girls. She had two people whom she was keeping an especially sharp eye on. One, a nondescript man who might as well have had COP tattooed on his forehead; the other, the reporter Mary Travis.

Lydia snorted in amusement. For a woman supposedly here to work on a story, her wardrobe leaves a bit to be desired. Yeah right. The whole time she's interviewing Nora at the side table, she's making cow eyes at Chris. Not that he notices. Vin looks like he's about had enough noise, though. She, Inez, and most of the the women had a special fondness for Tanner. He was always shy and polite with them. Lydia had the notion that he regarded women the same bemused way he would rare, tropical orchids; as something beautiful and exotic, but not to be touched. She watched the pair fondly. Vin had his back firmly against the wall, in the corner near the rear exit. Larabee stood close beside him, hand on the wall beside Vin's head, golden head bent close as he murmured something in his ear. His broad back was turned to the room, shielding the smaller man from view, unconsciously protective. As she watched, he seemed to be teasing Tanner, one big hand tugging gently at a strand of Vin's hair. Vin's eyes were locked with his, a half smile on his face. Those two seemed to be going through a second honeymoon phase, if what Inez had reported was true.

She swept her gaze over the room. Buck was holding court at the center booth, surrounded by women, as usual. Nathan and Rain, hands entwined, were making their way steadlily towards the door, with Rain's reptilian choice of fashion accessory guaranteeing a clear path. Josiah was sitting with the petite Chantal in his lap. The big ex-priest looked mesmerized by the woman as she cooed and flirted, one small hand toying with his necklace. Lydia made a mental note to warn the girl about Josiah's minor quirks. Such as stalking women he was attracted to. Raphael leaned against the end of the bar, with the taller, lithe, catsuited Ebony plastered so close Lydia couldn't see daylight between them. He didn't seem to mind. Ezra, she knew, had a high stakes poker game going in a back room. Then she spotted trouble.

JD and Casey, both wired, were seating themselves at the bar. JD was in the middle of describing something; motor mouth running nonstop. He was attracting a lot of attention. Even seated down the noisy bar, she could lipread some of the words. VIN and SHOT and DEAD, this complete with the mimed aiming and firing of a gun. The Travis woman was seated right behind them, obviously listening. Lydia stood quickly, eyes going immediately towards Larabee. He had his back to them, herding Vin towards the rear exit. Thank God for small favors. He would kill JD if he heard that. She turned back towards Buck's table, relieved when she was immediately able to catch his eye. She nodded sharply towards the babbling JD Dunne and his audience, and Buck was up and immediately on the move. He gently set his girls aside, pushing his way through the crowd; a frown building on his handsome face as he strode up to the bar.

Mary Travis frowned, bewildered, and tried to lean closer without being too obvious about it. Did he just say Vin shot someone? With all the noise it was difficult to hear herself think. Looking up, she saw Buck Wilmington approaching rapidly. Wanting to avoid the big man, she straightened, looking automatically around the bar for Chris Larabee. She was just in time to see his broad back disappear down the back hall. I have to talk with him. Impulsively, she stood and followed him. She was uncertain of her own motivations. The man was a criminal; a biker. He was believed to be responsible for the majority of crime in the area. Everything from gunrunning and auto theft to prostitution and murder. She also suspected he knew who had been responsible for her husband's death. Yet she was fascinated by the man. She had tried to approach him for information shortly after the murders; and again when he had been released from Yuma prison, only to be stonewalled. It infuriated her. Beautiful and accomplished, she was unaccustomed to being ignored; especially by such an attractive man. Determined to confront him, she strode down the hall after him.

"Both of 'em dead as doornails..." JD crowed, then flinched as a big hand dropped heavily on his shoulder in the middle of his narrative to Casey of the two would be assassins. He found himself looking up into a grim face. "B-u-ck! I was just tellin' Casey..."

"Telling Casey, and half the damned bar, boy. What the hell are you thinking? You want Chris to put a bullet in your head for running your mouth?" Buck tugged the youth off his stool and gave him a shake. Then his eyes narrowed; he leaned in and dabbed at the white granules of powder under the boy's nose. He took a closer look at JD's eyes. "You stupid little bastard..." he breathed quietly.

"Buck, it ain't what you think..." JD babbled, beginning to panic.

"Leave him alone! You got no right!" Casey flung herself into the fray, pounding Buck's shoulder with her fists.

Buck never looked at her, just reached out and knotted one big hand into the hair at the base of her skull. He shook her, once, hard. She gave a squeak, and went still. Cold blue eyes on JD's terrified face, Buck spoke quietly. "You get your ass upstairs and wait for me."

"Buck.."

"Now, boy." With one quick look at Casey, he obeyed, stumbling in his haste. Buck turned back to the young woman he held, yanking her close as he did. "What did I tell you, little girl?" Casey said nothing, heart pounding in terror.

Buck motioned for Lydia to join him as he propelled Casey across the room to the back office. Once inside, he released her hair only to grab one thin wrist. Despite her struggles, he held her tight, and pushed her sleeve up to reveal the tiny bruises on her inner arm. With a snarl he flung her slight body onto the nearby sofa. "What did I tell you, little bitch? What did I tell you about using that shit around JD? Do you even remember? Or are you so damned stupid that you actually thought I'd let you get away with it?" His anger was boiling to the surface, fueled by the adrenaline of an action filled night. The only thing that kept him from killing her at that moment was JD's fondness for the girl. He turned to Lydia, who stood quietly inside the door. "What shall we do with her Lydia? She's a damned junkie with a loose mouth. Won't be long until she'd probably fuck a dog for a fix."

Lydia regarded the sobbing girl on the sofa with pity. She knew the girl's history. Her mother had been an addict. Casey was born with a taste for the drug. The only person to care for her had been that crazy old bat, Nettie Wells. Still, she was a liability they could ill afford. "I don't see a lot of choices here, Buck," she replied slowly; "We could send her to Josiah's nuns, and see if they can dry her out again. We can put her on a bus out of town. Or, we can send her ass over the border. Jacinto is due in tomorrow. He has a taste for white meat."

Calming, Buck turned to the sniveling, wide-eyed young woman. "Your choice, girl. What will it be?"

Sobbing, she stared from one grim face to the other. She had no protectors here. Her only living relative was in an institution. JD would do whatever Buck wanted. Larabee would kill her if he found out. The most important thing in her life came in tiny cellophane packets. "I don't know! I don't know what to do!" She wailed piteously, burying her face in her hands.

Buck softened minutely. Women were, and always would be, his weakness. He smoothed his moustache, a gesture of self comfort that came automatically. "Put her in one of the downstairs rooms. Tomorrow, put her ass on a Greyhound, with a one way ticket to wherever she wants to go." He bent over the girl and tilted her face up so she was forced to meet his eyes. "This is the last chance you get from me, little girl. I see you again, you're meat. Do you understand me?" He tightened his grip on her jaw. She nodded frantically. He hauled her to her feet, and passed her to Lydia. "Keep an eye on her." The tall redhead nodded, steering the girl out the door.

Buck threw himself down on the sofa Casey had just vacated with a noisy whoosh of breath. Damned kids. It was a wonder his hair wasn't gray. He sighed, noisily. He had a lot to do in the next few hours. He had a boy waiting upstairs to be disciplined. The verbal warning hadn't been enough of a deterrent, time to get harsh. He loved the kid like a brother; but he had to be pulled into line. Thank God, Chris was so intent on Vin, he didn't see anything. Speaking of Vin; there were some ruffled feathers to be smoothed there. Buck sure as hell didn't want to end up a bleached skeleton in the desert with a bullet rattling around in his skull. He had to make peace with Vin. He also had to run damage control on the Travis woman, see if she proved more trouble than she was worth. Fine piece of ass, though. Got the video to prove it. That tape would come in mighty handy if Miss Mary did something stupid in the near future.

The woman had made the mistake of targeting Buck for information, shortly after Larabee was sentenced to Yuma. She had gotten the mistaken idea that because Buck was easy, he was also stupid. Dressed to kill, in a tiny sequined red dress and heels, she had attempted to seduce information out of him in his own club. Apparently, she didn't realize that the bad element watched the local news. She was so easily recognizable, with that platinum blonde hair and pretty face. Buck, a connouisseur of women, always remembered a beautiful face. Once he realized what she was after, he had played along. Putting on his charming-but-dim persona, he had plied her with mixed drinks, and a few questions of his own; and once he ascertained that she was indeed fishing for information on Larabee's operation he had slipped a bit of rohypnol into her drink.

Wrapping a companiable arm around her waist, he had guided her into the private rooms in the back for a private tour, especially of the luxurious little VIP suite with the concealed cameras. Under the influence, the charming Ms. Travis had lost more than her inhibitions that night. Buck lost count of the positions they had fucked in. One of his favorite memories of that night was of Mary bent over the billards table with her tiny skirt hiked above her waist, while Buck fucked her lustily from behind. Just thinking about that night made him hard.

He sprawled back on the big, overstuffed leather sofa with a sigh. He could have made a fortune selling that tape, but it was tucked away safely. If Mary caused trouble for Chris, Buck would see that she had a private screening. He groaned, imagining watching those two together. Even better, sharing the woman with Chris. In the good old days, that would have been a real possibility. His cock responded as it always did, swelling immediately. He huffed softly to himself, shifting position to give himself some relief from the pressure. Fat chance of that. Only got eyes for his blue-eyed boy now. His eyes popped open, at a sudden thought. If both Chris and Vin...that boy's got most of my girls beat for looks. He sighed, knowing the jealous Larabee would never go for it. Fool. Remember what happened with Sarah. Nearly got your fool self killed. Besides, Vin won't let anyone touch him but Chris. Poor kid had a hell of a life, a wonder he's not crazier then he is. Still, it was something to contemplate... A timid knock on the door jolted his thoughts back to earth. Looking up, he saw Ruby shyly peering in. Opening his arms wide, Buck beamed and purred; "Come here, darlin'."

Chris was running high on adrenaline and a good liquor buzz. Time to top that good feeling off with some hot lovemaking. One hand on Vin's hip, he hustled the smaller man out the back door. Vin took a deep gulp of the fresh night air, relieved to finally get away from the noisy crowd. Chris grinned at his audible sigh of relief. "Better?" Vin nodded, still breathing deep. "Inez's?" He slid his hand around Vin's waist, steering him towards the side where the bike was parked.

"Ranch."

"Inez's is closer." Chris wheedled, nuzzling into his partner's neck.

"Ranch." Vin answered firmly, eyes automatically scanning around the parking lot. He'd had enough of people for a while. "Private." he clarified, relaxing a bit.

He gave a startled yelp when Larabee grabbed his waist and swung him around to pin him to the brick wall, hands and hungry mouth busy. "Can be private here..."he growled, latching onto Vin's sore earlobe and sucking hard, lean body pressing close, one thigh thrust between Vin's, hips thrusting lazily. He kissed Vin greedily, sucking at his tongue, one big hand sliding inside his denim shirt to toy with a tiny nipple.

Vin gasped as he struggled to tear his mouth away. Goddamned Larabee, horny as a toad... He shook his head to clear it, to try and push Chris off. If he wasn't careful, Larabee would have him bent over, pants around his ankles, fucked against this wall, before he could blink. Man had a one track mind.

"R-r-ranch!" he argued desperately as the hand teasing his nipples slid farther south. "Chris!"

"Hmm?" Larabee was busy. He bit tender flesh and sucked hard, intent on marking his man. At the same time he slid his hand into Vin's jeans; squeezing the hot, silky flesh, gently kneading the full balls. He buried his face in Vin's hair, breathing deeply. God, he loved the scent of this man.

"Chris!" Vin was getting desperate now; he pushed weakly at Larabee's broad shoulders.

Chris lifted his head to rub his bearded jaw against Vin's. "You say something, Cowboy?" He teased gently; big hand still working swollen flesh. He eyed Vin's flushed face with satisfaction. Beautiful. Mine. He kissed Vin again, free hand cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. Vin moaned into the kiss, hands kneading Larabee's shoulders now, hips thrusting into his palm.

A loud gasp jerked both their heads up. Vin froze against him, and Chris found himself staring into Mary Travis's shocked eyes.

"You want something, Miz Travis?" Nosy bitch. He slowly withdrew his hand from Vin's jeans and lifted it to pop damp fingers nastily into his mouth. He sucked them lazily, bright, wicked eyes on her face. Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Face scarlet, she turned and fled back inside the club.

Vin huffed soft laughter against his cheek, shoulders shaking silently. "Smooth, Lar'bee!"

"Well, she pissed me off. Should mind her own business."

Vin snickered, and pushed Larabee playfully towards the Harley. "I'm driving!" He ordered firmly.

Chris gave him a wide leer. "Sure, pard." Vin shot him a look, suspicious at the lack of argument. He found out why before they even pulled out on the highway. Snug against his back, one arm tight around his waist, Chris's mouth and free hand were free to roam. Vin swore viciously at the hand gently squeezing his crotch; hearing Larabee's wicked snicker in his ear. Leaning over the handlebars, he opened the big bike flat out; determined to get home before he wrapped them around a tree. Crazy son of a bitch. Should have shot his ass.

---

Larabee Ranch
Three Days Later

Buck wailed along with the Elvis CD as he jounced down the long unpaved drive to the house. His Harley was in the shop for detailing, so he drove his ancient Ford truck. He could afford better, but he liked his old truck. Besides, he bore peace offerings. Piled in the seat beside him was enough junk food to send Tanner and a small third world nation into sugar shock.

Chris Larabee rolled out of bed, wincing a little at the soreness of his backside. He groped for and pulled on a worn pair of sweats. He could hear the radio in the kitchen, and smell sausage frying. Vin was up bright and early. Since the party they had spent most of their time out here, relaxing. Inez had stopped by once. She had dropped off a tray of homemade enchiladas and a box containing Vin's not stray cat. The little feline had had a close encounter with a delivery truck, and Inez felt she would be safer out of town.

Padding barefoot into the kitchen, he found Tanner intent on fixing eggs and sausage gravy. "Morning. Something smells good." Chris wrapped both arms around the lean waist and commenced to nibble on succulent earlobes.

Vin huffed a soft laugh. "Ya want breakfast Larabee, might wanna hit the shower first."

"You saying I stink, Tanner?" A soft snicker was his only reply. Chuckling, Chris headed down the hall to obey.

Vin glanced out the window over the sink when he heard Buck's truck in the drive. Wincing in annoyance at the loud beep of the horn, he turned back to his frying pan. He wasn't sure he felt like dealing with the big man now. He knew how sluttish Chris could be, and how hard to resist he was. However, that didn't mean he was ready to forgive Buck.

"Knock! Knock!" Wilmington hollered as he struggled with the screen door. Pushing his way inside, he set a case of Dos Equis and a stack of bakery boxes on the kitchen table. Vin didn't reply, keeping his eyes on his cooking. "Smells good, pard." Buck persisted, taking a seat at the table. He could hear the shower running, and he found himself hoping Chris turned up soon. Vin was apparently intent on stonewalling him. At a loss, he glanced around the kitchen. A little gray cat hopped up on the kitchen table beside him, curled a fluffy tail around small black feet, and watched him with bright golden eyes. "Get off the table, kitty." Buck ordered amiably. Kitty turned to present him with an eye level view of a dainty, rosebud pink asshole; which she then proceeded to wash. Buck sighed. Even the damned cat was ignoring him.

Chris wandered in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of black jeans, toweling his hair dry. Buck was seated at the table, exchanging glares with the cat. "Morning, Buck. Wasn't expecting you." He glanced over at a silent Tanner, who was filling plates.

Buck shrugged wordlessly, and raised his brows questioningly. Chris shrugged in reply. "Thought I'd drop by for a bit. See what ya'll were up to this weekend."

Chris smirked; "You mean, besides the usual?" They laughed together. Chris pulled out a chair beside him; giving the cat a gentle swat with the towel as he did. She sat up and batted vigorously back, before jumping down and trotting off to sit in a patch of sunshine. "Feisty little critter," Buck said, admiringly. "I didn't know you had a cat."

"It's Vin's," Chris clarified, shooting an impish look at Tanner. Vin slanted him an evil look back, but said nothing. He slapped a plate down in front of Chris; and, to Buck's surprise, one in front of him as well. "Thanks Vin. Looks mighty good." He said gratefully, taking the offered food as a sign that the Texan might be ready to bury the hatchet.

Buck dug into the fried eggs covered with thick, sausage gravy, with relish. Tanner could cook when he had a mind to. Of course the boy would eat almost anything, including Josiah's chili... A horrific thought struck him, and he froze, mouth stuffed full. He wouldn't...would he? He shot a look at Chris's plate. Plain scrambled eggs and toast. No help there. The entire gang lived in fear of Josiah's cooking. Or rather, the dubious ingredients of Josiah's cooking; especially those little anonymous packets wrapped in plain, white butcher's paper labeled simply, MEAT. Lately Josiah had taken to experimenting with sausage recipes...

Buck shot a desperate look towards the stove, hoping to see a recognizable sausage label. "What's the matter, Bucklin? Ya don't like my cookin'?" Vin's voice was soft and flat, his blue eyes hard.

Shit, shit, shit. If I don't eat he WILL be mad...damned if I do, and damned if I don't! Buck finished chewing manfully, then swallowed with effort. Hope to hell that wasn't Chato. Chris chuckled softly next to him.

"What's the matter Buck? I thought you liked Jimmy Dean?" Buck choked, for one millisecond he had thought Larabee was refering to the sausage's source, not its manufacturer. Looking across the table, he finally caught the twinkle in Vin's eyes. He sputtered in outrage. "You sons of bitches! I thought I was chowing on some of 'Siah's mystery meat!"

His friends burst into raucous laughter at his expense. Tanner nearly fell off his chair, while Larabee laughed so hard, he had tears in his eyes. "Should have seen your face, Buck!"

"Looked like a chipmunk with a moustache, Bucklin!"

Buck huffed, and pretended indignation for a few minutes before joining in.

---

Little Sisters of Mercy Convent

Josiah Sanchez straightened slowly to his feet, a scowl on his craggy face and a trowel clenched in one big hand. A fat, shiny black crow cawed mockingly at him from the convent wall. Josiah cast a longing look at the potting shed, and the .357 Magnum hidden within; then a covert glance over to where Sisters Mary Eustace and Mary Katherine sat chatting nearby. They waved at him cheerfully. The crow hopped closer and cawed louder. Damned demonspawn, mocking him. Just you wait, you little black devil. Shoulders slumped in defeat, the big man turned back to the wheelbarrow and another bag of bonemeal.

Sisters Eustace and Katherine sat and admired the new floribunda bed. The new plants were thriving under Josiah's tender care. He was such a nice man, so thoughtful. He even named the new varieties after his friends. One row of skinny, new plants bore the neatly printed label: Raul, and the other; Chato. The convent rose garden in full bloom, with it's hundreds of plants, buzzing with bees, was a beautiful sight indeed.

THE END

Navajo Vocabulary:
shiye = son
biligaana = white
tsiishchi'ili = curly haired
tkele-cho-g = jackass
dineh-ba-whoa-blehi = mantrap

---

Little Sisters of Mercy Convent, Four Corners, New Mexico
Saturday Morning

CAW! CAW! CA--! CLANG!

The metallic clang of the door of the Livetrap slamming shut had Josiah popping out of the spirea hedge like a demented, overlarge jack-in-the-box. Dropping his clippers, he rubbed his palms together with glee. 'Finally caught that little black devil!' The Sisters had sternly forbidden him to shoot the big, black crow he had been feuding with, so he had been forced to resort to the use of a humane varmint trap. The fact that he planned on wringing the blasted bird's neck afterwards, was better not mentioned to the soft hearted nuns. He trotted happily towards the big oak tree under which he had set the trap.

"Shit! Parnell!" The large cream colored cat sitting placidly inside the trap, blinked Siamese blue eyes up at Josiah and purred loudly. "Sister Serafina will skin me alive!" Parnell, the convent cat, was much beloved by all the Sisters of Mercy, but he was Sister Serafina's spoiled darling. The big man knelt, and carefully released the madly purring feline. "Bad kitty!" Parnell purred louder. He and Josiah had a fairly amiable relationship. Parnell was diligent at hunting rats and mice around the greenhouses, but he also clawed open the bags of bark mulch, planted turds in the flower beds, and delighted in napping in trays of seedlings, often squashing them flat.

Josiah scowled down at the plump cat. "Since when do cats eat corn?" Exasperated, the big man stared down as Parnell blinked innocently up. He stretched and stropped his claws lazily on the toes of Josiah's battered boots. Hands on hips, Josiah glared down at the unrepentant feline. "I'd think, as a cat, you'd would want to help catch that little feathered bastard!"

"Brother Sanchez! Such language!" Sister Serafina chirped from directly behind him, causing him to give a guilty jump. Craggy face aflame, he hung his head meekly. "Sorry Sister Serafina. Thought I'd caught that dam...darned crow; but Parnell here sprang the trap."

"Parnell! Such a bad kitty! You must not play with Brother Sanchez's trap!"

The plump little Hispanic nun bent and scooped Parnell up. Still scolding, she carried him off towards the kitchen, where he would no doubt be stuffed full of treats. He smirked back at Josiah over her shoulder. Josiah scowled. Damned uppity critters. Then he brightened. Today was barbeque day at Chris's ranch. Rain Jackson had specifically asked that he help her cook the cuts of meat she was bringing. Beaming at the thought, he hurried to reset his trap and put his tools away. Josiah loved to cook. He stoutly ignored the crow that flapped lazily by overhead and cawed mockingly.

---

Chris Larabee's Ranch, Outside of Four Corners:

Vin Tanner chuckled softly at the antics of the little black, blaze-faced studcolt frisking around the corral as Vin groomed his mother. Lena's Black Beauty was a full blooded champion quarter horse, and Chris's favorite broodmare. The big mare was sweet tempered and a natural cutting horse. Chris had been irate when he discovered that a neighbor's rawboned, ornery mustang stud had literally jumped the fence during Beauty's last heat. The result was now bucking in happy circles around Vin, stopping ever so often to sidle in and slyly nibble at his pockets. The colt was as spirited and stubborn as he was handsome. Chris threatened at least once a week to shoot him for dog food.

Vin on the other hand, championed the little misfit. He admired the colt's spirit and intelligence, and worked patiently with the lively foal to try and teach him manners. In return, the colt adored Vin, obeyed him for the most part, and ignored everyone else. Vin finished brushing Beauty, and unhooked her lead. "There ya go. Purty as a picture." He ran a loving hand down the mare's glossy neck. She responded with a gentle nudge and a soft whicker. He gave her withers one last pat, and headed for the gate, coiling the lead rope as he went, his little equine shadow trotting happily behind.

"You best behave son, or Chris is gonna have yer hide for a rug!"

The colt tossed his head and squealed, almost as though he were agreeing, then he snaked his head out and stole the bandanna out of Vin's back pocket. Whirling, he kicked up his heels with glee and took off across the corral at a gallop. Vin grinned and shook his head. He looped the lead over the gate post and headed up to the house. Chris was due back from town at any minute. He had gone in to stock up on groceries and beer for the barbeque.

Vin snickered at the thought of all the antics the guys were going through to distract Josiah from actually bringing some of his dubious cuts of meat to the cookout. Rain had cannily sweet-talked the big man into assisting her in preparing the steaks she had bought on sale. Buck and Ezra had gone on a frantic spending spree at the supermarket, purchasing a cart load of various spices, seasonings and condiments to keep him busy. The long term plan for the summer cookouts was to distract Josiah with different meats and marinades each weekend until barbeque season was over.

As he walked across the yard towards the house he saw an unfamiliar red sports car turn into the drive. Frowning, he moved to insure his jeep sat between himself and the stranger. He had a couple of his guns stashed in the jeep, and better to be safe than sorry. As the flashy Miata pulled up to the house he saw the driver was a petite brunette. She wore a gash of scarlet lipstick and was flashing a lot of tan skin in a skimpy sundress. She gave him a slow, deliberate once over, eyes running down his lean body appreciatively, and flashed a wide barracuda smile.

"Hi. I'm looking for Chris Larabee."

"He ain't home." Vin answered shortly, flushing and fighting the urge to button up his denim shirt. The woman's predatory gaze made him uneasy.

She frowned. "When do you expect him back?"

"Don't know."

She frowned again, dark eyes narrowed, taken aback by the curt answers this handsome man gave. She decided he must be one of Larabee's hired hands and to put him in his place a bit.

"And you are?" she asked coldly.

"I live here," he answered evenly. This woman raised his hackles, and he wasn't about to give her his name without good reason.

"Well, tell your boss that Ella Gaines stopped by to see him, and that I look forward to renewing old aquaintances."

"Tell him yerself."

Vin nodded towards the road, where Chris's big black Ram was nosing into the long driveway. He was glad to see his lover, and to let him deal with this woman.

Chris Larabee frowned at the unfamiliar car, taking in Vin's defensive posture in a single glance. What the hell? He rolled up behind Vin's jeep slowly, automatically feeling for the .45 automatic tucked between the seats of the Ram. The woman looked vaguely familiar. Recognition struck. Ah, hell, Ella Alligator Gaines.

The only woman with the dubious honor to ever wear out Buck Wilmington. She had pursued Chris relentlessly in college, and he had finally resorted to fucking her in the vain hope that she would then leave him alone. As he recalled, it had only made her worse. He had dumped her ass flat when she started warbling about marriage. Wonder what the hell she wants?

Resigned to dealing with her again, he reluctantly descended from the truck.

"Chris!"

Emerging from her own vehicle, she hurried over to fling her arms around him. She stood on her toes to kiss him.

"Ella. Been a long time. What brings you here?"

He turned his head to avoid her lips, and the kiss landed on his cheek instead of his mouth. Vin smirked at him over her shoulder. He winked back as he peeled her off and took a step back out of reach. She clung, following him.

" Why, Chris, is that anyway to talk to an old flame? I was just telling your hired man here that I was looking forward to renewing old aquaintances," she purred up at him, lashes fluttering .

Chris gave her a tiny smile. "Vin's my partner, not my hired man," he answered evenly, voice cool.

"Oh, I do apologize, he seems a bit shy." She smiled up into his eyes, one red-taloned hand gripping his arm. She completely ignored Vin.

Chris stepped around her and flung his arm over Vin's shoulders. "Vin, this is Ella. Knew her in college. I might have mentioned her a time or two."

"Ma'am," Vin drawled quietly. He nodded politely to her. "Reckon Bucklin has mentioned her too." He turned to Chris; "Got chores." Slipping from under Chris's hand, he turned and walked away.

"My...he IS shy." Ella laughed lightly up at Chris. Then, a seductive smile curving her wide mouth, she again stepped forward to try and claim his arm.

"I was hoping to renew our...aquaintance, Chris."

He gave her a bright, false smile. "Sorry, Ella. I'm afraid I'm already spoken for."

She blinked, taken by surprise. "Oh, I wasn't aware you had married again."

"I'm not." He stepped away, again putting distance between them. "What can I do for you, Ella?" he asked, patience wearing thin, eyes on the barn, a frown growing between his brows.

She scowled, confused. Things were not going as she had planned. Time to fall back and regroup a bit. "I heard you were raising horses. I've got a stallion with impeccable bloodlines, but he's impossible to work with. I was hoping you could train him for me. I thought we might work out a deal for stud service in exchange." She smiled brightly again. "I bought the Rivera ranch over by Red Rock Butte, I hope to continue the stables there."

Chris frowned again, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I know old man Rivera. His folks settled that land. I wouldn't have thought he would sell."

Ella shrugged lightly and tossed her head. "Well, he was happy to accept the offer I made. Are you interested in working with my horse?"

Chris shrugged indifferently. "I don't work the horses like I used to, Ella. It's more of a hobby now. You can have one of your hands drop him off, and I'll take a look at him though."

An emotion he couldn't recognize flickered briefly across her face, before that wide smile emerged again.

"Excellent. I'm sure we can work something out! It sure has been good seeing you again, Bareback Larabee!" She laughed lightly at Chris's grimace of distaste.

"I'll see you later, then."

She waved prettily, and reluctantly turned away to her car. Chris frowned after her for a moment, then went in pursuit of his lover. It wasn't like Vin to retreat like that. Something had unsettled him. Knowing Ella's tastes, he had a good idea of the cause. Well, he could take care of that.

---

Ella Gaines pulled out on the highway with an angry screech of tires, and spurting gravel. She was furious. Involved? With whom? Well, it doesn't matter. Chris was hers. She had worked her way through three wealthy husbands in her quest for money and power, and any woman fool enough to get in her way in her pursuit of the man she loved was easily dealt with. It just required a slight alteration to her plans. She smiled, and began to hum softly. Soon she and Larabee would be together forever.

---

Blossom's Gentleman's Club, Upper Suites

Buck whistled softly to himself as he strolled down the corridor, buttoning his colorful batik shirt as he went. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing , and he had just had a spectacular training session with one of the new girls. Life was good. Muted laughter, soft music, and the soft sounds of sex filtered through the closed doors of the rooms lining the hall. He grinned. Business was good, too!

Just as he reached the stairs, past the last door, he heard the sharp WHACK of leather striking flesh, followed by a muffled yelp and thump. He winced and paused, head cocked, to listen at the color coded black door. Best be sure old Judge Newcomer wasn't getting more than he paid for. Wouldn't do for the old fart to croak on the premises. After a tense moment, he heard another WHACK, followed by the throaty, commanding purr of a woman's voice, and the Judge babbling in happy agreement.

Buck shook his head. Damn. That visiting Austrian dominatrix is good. Chuckling, he headed down the stairs, another exuberant WHACK, followed by an ecstatic yelp, echoing behind. He made a mental note to have Lydia give the woman a raise, and a contract offer. Maybe later he would see for himself if she was as skilled with a velvet flogger as a she was with the cat 'o nine tails.

Buck wasn't into pain. Pain was ugly, and Buck hated ugly. Glancing at his watch, he grinned. It was almost time to head out to Chris's for the weekly barbeque. Reaching the club's ground level, he was pleased to see JD seated at a back table with his laptop. The boy had been surly and withdrawn since the night of Chris's welcome home party.

JD had been furious to learn that Buck had put Casey on a bus out of town, not to mention humiliated by the fact that Buck had turned him over his knee and belted his ass for using drugs. Since then, he had avoided everyone, and barely spoken a word to Buck.

The fact that an ass whipping was infinitely better than a bullet in the head had not yet dawned on the kid. If Chris had found out about JD's drug use, that would have been all she wrote. Larabee's tolerance for the hyperactive Dunne was minute on good days. Buck loved the kid enough to discipline him, something his doting mother had never done before her death.

Caroline Dunne had asked that Buck look after her son, after she discovered she had terminal cancer. She had been a maid who had worked in Buck's mother's brothel after no one would hire a pregnant, unwed teen. Buck had grown to love JD like a younger brother.

JD glanced up, saw the big man approaching, and hastily signed off his email account. He had no desire for Buck to learn that he was still in touch with Casey Wells. He and Casey had big plans for the future, and that future didn't include Buck Wilmington dogging his every move and ordering him around. He smirked to himself. He had plans to score big, then meet Casey in Mexico.

He had watched Lydia for days now, and knew the club payroll and deposit schedules by heart. He also knew that Chris ran a lot of money from the chop shop through Blossom's. All he needed now was the combination to the office safe. Then he would be home free, and Buck could go fuck himself.

Buck beamed fondly down at the boy. "Ready for some fine barbeque, kid?"

JD stood hastily and tucked his laptop in his backpack. Buck wrapped a big arm around him and gave him a companionable squeeze.

"Yeah, Buck. Are you sure Rain is bringing the ribs and steaks? You know I like Josiah, but his cooking scares me!"

Buck threw back his head and laughed out loud. "Hell, kid," he boomed, "'Siah's cooking scares everybody! But we got a long term plan to keep him occupied this summer." He drew JD towards the doors, waving to Lydia as they passed, as he happily elaborated on the gang's solution to the Sanchez Culinary Catastrophe, as Ezra termed it.

"See you and Inez there, Lydia!"

Looking up from the books, at her habitual seat at the end of the bar, she nodded absently in agreement. Eyes thoughtful, she watched the two men leave, Buck goosing the kid to hustle him out the door. Tucking an unruly strand of red hair behind her ear, she chewed lightly on the end of her pencil. JD was up to something. She was sure of it. Buck couldn't see it yet, he was too close, but it was there.

Lydia was a keen observer of human nature. That ability, coupled with high intelligence, had made her a highly successful businesswoman.

"That boy is headed for trouble." A quiet tenor voice spoke behind her.

Raphael Cordova de Martinez's lean form slid behind the bar. He pulled two shot glasses from a rack, and poured them both a shot of Kentucky sipping whisky.

Surprised at this verbal echo of her own thoughts, she arched a brow at him. He shrugged dismissively. "You are not the only one who watches, Lydia." She frowned questioningly. "Buck does not see. He is going to be hurt..." he continued. His cognac eyes dark with worry.

Lydia raised her glass to him. "Not if we both watch his back."

Raphael gave her a ghost of a smile. "It is easy to cover a man's back... but how do you shield his heart?" He clinked glasses with her, tossed back his shot, nodded, then turned and followed Buck and JD.

Lydia watched him go. She bit her lip thoughtfully. So, while she had been watching JD, Rafe had been watching Buck. Was he talking about Buck, or himself? Well, this was certainly something new to contemplate. She felt a secret smile curve her full lips. Good. Buck finally had a champion. A macho, hot-blooded Latin champion at that. She had watched Buck moon after Chris and Vin for the past few weeks, knowing he felt left out, and was helpless to offer solace.

Chris Larabee could be an arrogant, obsessive son of a bitch when he chose to be, and right now Vin Tanner was his focus. Their relationship had deepened over the past weeks, their love obvious to anyone with functional eyes. Chris took deep pleasure in flaunting his affection for Vin. He delighted in public displays of affection that left Tanner flushed and tongue-tied with embarrassment. The alpha of the Dark Angels didn't give a rat's ass about public opinion. Vin was his, and if he wanted to touch him, or kiss his mouth in public, he would, and God help any asshole who objected.

Lydia sighed softly. While Buck and Chris had history together, she knew that deep down Buck refused to accept the fact that Chris had moved on with the young sharpshooter. She just hoped that Raphael would make his move before Buck did something stupid that could possibly irreparably damage his friendship with Chris. Buck had a mulish tendency to push too hard, and leap before he looked. That trait had landed his ass in trouble before. She loved the big, soft-hearted rogue, and didn't want see him hurt.

Huffing out a soft breath, she turned to the back offices. There were some changes to be made and safeguards to be put in place. She had watched JD watch her over the past couple of weeks, and she thought she knew what he had planned. She shook her head in exasperation. The boy was a young fool. She just hoped she and Buck would be able to keep him from doing something that might get him killed. In the meantime, she would watch, and be ready to move.

---

Kensington Townhomes, Four Corners.

Ezra Standish stood meekly in the middle of his stylish living room, cell phone clutched to one ear. His green eyes were wide with horror. "Yes, mothah. No, mothah. Whatever you think is best mothah. Yes, mothah. Ah love you too, mothah. Goodbye, mothah."

He dropped the phone onto the antique settee, and sank down heavily, head in hands. He groaned piteously. He could feel one of his sick headaches coming on. Dear Lord in heaven, Maude was coming for a visit. He fought down wistful thoughts of fleeing the country, and stumbled into the bathroom. Perhaps a hot shower would help. Then he would go to the wretched barbeque and imbibe alcoholic beverages until he passed out. Better yet, perhaps one of Mr. Sanchez's gastronomic disasters would put him forever out of his misery.

---

Jackson Mortuary, Apartment above

Rain Jackson watched with amusement as Nathan checked the cooler for the fourteenth time to insure that she had indeed, packed the ribs and steaks. He was leaving nothing to chance. She snickered unkindly. "It's all there, Sugar. Just like the last time you checked."

He sniffed, and rolled his eyes at her."I know, I know...I was just--"

"--making sure."

He glared at his pretty wife, and huffed. "Well, fine. But you know how much Josiah loves to cook. If he shows up with some of his special cut, what are we gonna do?"

She beamed at him. "Feed it to Vin's cat?"

He brightened for a moment, then frowned doubtfully. " I dunno, Miss Lily is an awful little kitty cat..." He chuckled, and grinned broadly down at her, "Maybe we can buy Chris a dog for his birthday next month!"

"A BIG dog!"

"A big HUNGRY dog!"

They snickered together happily, both imagining Larabee's reaction upon receiving a big, slobbering, goofy dog as a present. Laughing together, they picked up their cookout supplies and headed out the door.

---

Larabee's Ranch

Chris warily entered the gloom of the barn. "Alligator's gone, pard. You can come out now." He called jokingly.

Vin emerged from a stall, a bate of hay in hand. He arched a questioning brow.

"Ella Alligator Gaines is what we used to call her." Chris clarified with grin. "Chomped her way through half the football team one night."

"That the one that fucked the daylights out of Buck, an' left him passed out stark nekkid on the football field?"

Chris snickered unkindly. "That would be the one."

"That the one that you was gonna marry?"

Vin slanted a sideways look at Chris as he stuffed the fresh hay in a feed net in the empty stall. Chris gave an irritated snort.

"Hell, no! That's the one that thought I was stupid enough to marry a nymphomaniac! Had to join the damned Navy and move halfway across the country to get away from the bitch."

He shook his head in remembrance of Ella's blind persistance. She had tried everything to persuade Chris to marry her, up to pretending to be pregnant with his child. That scheme had fallen apart when he calmly pointed out he had used protection the few times that they had sex, and that she had also fucked almost every man he knew. He shuddered. Sooner marry a gator.

He made a mental note to have Ezra run a check on her. Red Rock Butte was too damned close for comfort, and that business of the Rivera's selling their beloved ranch set off alarm bells. Besides, it struck Larabee as strange that the woman would show up living so close, after all these years.

Vin slanted him the crooked grin he loved so much.

"Reckon Buck was right."

Puzzled, he arched a scarred brow. "Right about what?"

"Reckon Bareass Larabee WOULD fuck an alligator in the old days!"

Vin snickered, and dodged as Chris lunged at him with a pretend snarl. He sidestepped the blond, and would have made it out the barn door if Larabee hadn't snaked a long arm out and snagged his belt. He was laughing too hard to put up a good fight as Chris dragged him into the clean stall and pinned him smugly down in the straw. Bright green eyes glared down into laughing blue. Chris settled his weight more securely on his chuckling lover and gave him an evil smirk.

"I reckon my tastes have changed," he purred. He enjoyed watching those dark blue eyes dilate with anticipation. He leaned down and licked a lazy path from collarbone to earlobe, which he nibbled leisurely. Vin shuddered with pleasure beneath him.

"Reckon I prefer the taste of Texas Wildcat," he continued teasingly as he bit one tiny brown nipple sharply enough to make Vin yelp, then began to suckle strongly. Vin arched beneath him and cried out at the exquisite sensations that sent instant heat pooling into his groin. Keeping Vin's wrists pinned above his head with one hand, Chris began to peel open their clothes with the other.

They were unaware of the two interested sets of eyes observing. One bright, slanted set belonged to a small, gray cat perched up in the hayloft. She peered sleepily at the two writhing lovers for a few seconds, then curled back up to resume her interrupted nap. Those two were at it again! Worse than tomcats.

The second, big and brown, watched wide-eyed from the door of the barn. Beauty's colt had managed to nose open the paddock gate and gone in search of Vin. He snorted in amazement. He was just in time! The tall, black clad man who yelled at him all the time was fighting with HIS Vin, making him struggle and cry out! He gave a little squeal of outrage; flipped his stubby tail up, flattened his ears, snaked his head out with big equine teeth bared, and charged to the rescue.

CHOMP!

"Goddamned, sonuvabitchin' little black bastard! I'm gonna skin his ass alive!" An outraged Larabee howled in pain, eyes watering, as he clamped a hand to his wounded ass, and rolled off Vin. "He bit me! That little fucker bit me!"

He glared murderously up at the colt, who pawed the ground, tossed his head, curled his lip, and whinnied defiantly right back at him. Vin took one wide-eyed look at the unlikely standoff and howled with laughter, rolling helplessly in the straw. Chris shot a deadly glare at his lover, then peered over his own shoulder attempting to access the damage to his painfully throbbing buttock. The little devil would wait until he had his pants down!

He snarled, "Horse, I'm gonna sell you to the first man who offers me a plug nickle for your ornery hide!"

Vin managed to push himself upright and fumbled in his jeans pocket. Still gasping for breath and snickering helplessly at the sight of stubborn man versus ornery colt, he pulled out his lucky coin. "Ain't got no nickle, will ya take a peso?"

He offered the coin to the outraged Larabee, before keeling over in the straw for another round of laughter, helplessly clutching his ribs.

"Hell, he ain't worth a damned peso! You want the little bastard, he's yours! Next time he bites me though, he's gonna be dog food!"

Chris scowled down at his lover, as he gingerly rubbed his ass, trying to keep a wary eye on his small, equine nemesis at the same time. Vin sat up suddenly, eyes wide and bright.

"Ya mean it? Fer real, I kin have him?"

Surprised, Chris turned back to look at Vin. The younger man's face was glowing, his blue eyes searching Chris's face anxiously. Larabee realized suddenly that the casual gift of this ornery, ass-biting horse meant a great deal to his young lover. Vin had very few possessions, and each one was cherished. Unaware of the soft smile on his own face, Larabee answered softly, "Yeah, Vin. If you want him he's yours."

The sudden glint in Vin's eyes surprised him as much as the fierce, desperate hug Vin gave him. Startled, Chris held him close, and gently patted his back and smoothed his tangled hair. He kissed Vin's hot cheek, smiling as Tanner hid his flushed face against his shoulder. Emotions were unfamiliar, embarrassing territory for Vin, best hidden. Unable to resist that handsome, scarlet face he coaxed Vin's head up and nuzzled along the strong jaw seeking a deeper, more satisfying kiss. A warning snort jolted them apart, and made Larabee freeze, then glare green fire.

"Better do something about YOUR damned horse Tanner, before I shoot him!"

Vin snorted, and hastily wiped his face on his sleeve.

"Ain't afraid of no itty bitty one peso colt are ya, Larabee?" He struggled upright and bent to give Chris a hand up. He whistled in awe at the neat set of black and purple teeth marks set squarely in the center of Chris's left ass cheek. "Damn! He got ya good, Chris! I can count every toothmark!"

"Well, I can FEEL every goddamned toothmark!" Chris groused sourly, suddenly realizing that now that he had gifted the black devil to Vin, he was probably stuck with the wretched horse for life. He gave a resigned sigh. He really had to think these things through more often. Damn. He leered down at Vin. "You gonna kiss it and make it better, Tanner?"

Vin snorted and looped Chris's arm over his shoulder, and helped him limp towards the house, Chris holding his pants up with one hand and still glaring daggers back at the colt.

"Reckon I kiss yer ass often enough as is, Lar'bee!" He retorted, blue eyes twinkling at Chris's expression as he continued to glare holes in the colt's glossy hide.

"Least you can do is help me unload the truck!" Larabee grumbled. He slid a sly look across at Vin. "I stopped at Sweet Sue's and got some of those gawdawful fluorescent cupcakes you like so much," he coaxed.

Vin brightened. Sweet Sue's Emporium sold only the most sinful confections in Four Corners. Sue refused to stock anything fat free, and her tiny shop held only the richest handmade chocolates, delicious fresh pies and cakes, and homemade ice cream. Vin adored her.

"Them with the purty purple, green, yellow and red swirls?"

"Yep." Chris grinned at the anticipation on Tanner's face.

"And ice cream?"

"A half gallon of fudge ripple, and one of peach." Larabee confirmed.

"Well, I reckon I could give ya a hand," Vin conceded graciously.

Larabee scowled back over his shoulder at their frisky equine shadow. "And put that little shit back in the corral," he ordered. "Padlock the damned gate if you have to!"

Oblivious to the imminent threat to his life, little Peso whinnied, and trotted along happily behind, stubby tail switching busily.

"He sure is a smart 'un, ain't he Chris?" Vin said proudly.

Larabee just snarled in reply.

---

Rivera Ranchero, Red Rock Butte

Ella Gaines stormed up the paved walk and into the luxurious, hacienda style home. Her high heels clicked angrily as she stalked through the marble floored entryway towards the den. She flung her scarf and shoulder bag into the startled maid's face as she passed. Once there, she snatched up the phone and dialed quickly. Long, scarlet nails tapped impatiently on the mahogany desk as she waited for a response.

"Harper!" she snarled. "You fucked up. Your information was wrong. Larabee IS involved with someone!" She listened for a few minutes.

"I don't care. I want to know who, and I want a team out here to take care of her."

An evil smile curved her wide mouth.

"I want it slow and painful before the slut dies."

She shook her head impatiently at the low response.

"I don't care how much it costs. Just get a team out here. You take care of it personally".

She slammed the phone down. Her face was tight with rage as she went to the sideboard, and poured herself a brandy. Calming as she sipped the drink, she headed down the hall, and up the stairs to her bedroom. Kicking off her heels she padded across the plush burgundy carpet to stare up at the enlarged photograph that hung on the wall directly across from her large, canopied bed. Dreamily, she smiled up at the image.

"Soon, my darling. Soon."

Slowly she began to undress, imagining as she did that Chris's big hands were sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders and down her narrow hips. She began to hum softly to herself, caught up in her own world, as she slowly began to touch herself.

The photo depicted a stark white room, where a younger Chris Larabee sprawled nude, belly down, across a wide white-sheeted bed. Handsome face relaxed and vulnerable in sleep, eyes closed, thick lashes shadowed his cheek, full lips opened to reveal a hint of teeth. His hands were lax, long golden furred legs sprawled akimbo in afternoon sunlight. His creamy buttocks were a pale contrast to his deeply tanned torso and legs. The barred pattern of sunlight and shadow from a Venetian blinds stippled across his skin, and picked up a thousand grace notes of gold in his blond hair. Frozen forever innocent in sleep, he slumbered on, oblivious to Ella and her machinations.

---

Larabee's Ranch, Early afternoon

Chris leaned gingerly back in his deck chair, beer in hand. Despite his bruised ass, he was enjoying the afternoon. The cookout was a big success, especially since the plan to distract Josiah was working. Larabee hid a smile behind a hand at the sight of Sanchez, stationed solemnly at the grill. He had a tall chef's hat perched on his gray head and wore a Kiss the Cook apron, his long face intent as he diligently flipped steaks. Vin's cat sat alertly at his feet, small, rapt, bewhiskered face just as intent on Josiah. The big man scored high in Miss Lily's book, he always carried kitty treats. Besides, he might just drop a steak.

Nathan and Rain were curled up, cuddling in the big hammock under the twin oaks, while they chatted with Inez and Lydia. Ezra sat glumly at the picnic table, drowning his sorrows at an impending Maude visit in an enormous margarita. JD was seated across from him, trying valiantly to cheer him up with awful jokes. Tiny and Yosemite were arguing pro wrestling with Tito and Juanito under the big willow tree, while their wives and girlfriends unpacked various foodstuffs. Buck was in the kitchen, in search of more beer. Raphael lounged against the deck rail, eyes on the distant mountains.

Larabee's smile widened in welcome when he saw Vin finally wander up from the barn. The younger man had succeeded in corraling baby Peso, as he was now called, and had been spending some quality time with his horse. Vin tended to shy away from people at the best of times, even those he knew.

Vin's eyes crinkled as he smiled down at Chris. "Hey, Cowboy. Ya save me any beer?"

Chris leered up at him, eyes bright. He took a long pull from the bottle he held, then arched a blond brow. His voice was a rumbling purr, "I saved you a taste..." He licked his lips lazily, enjoying the rosy flush that flowed over Tanner's face in response to his blatant flirtation. He flashed white teeth in a hungry grin. "Why don't you come here and get it?"

Vin snorted, knowing better then to get within arm's length. Chris would think nothing of pulling him down in his lap and groping him in front of God and everybody. "Yer a slut, Larabee!"

"And that's a problem, how--exactly?"

Laughing softly, Vin started past him into the house to fetch his own beer, only to have Chris snake a long leg out and hook a bare foot around his calf. He raised a questioning brow and smirked when Chris waved his empty as he lazily caressed Vin's leg with his foot.

"I might fetch ya another...if ya ask real nice."

"Oh, I'll be real nice..." Larabee purred.

Shaking his head, Vin continued on into the house. Crossing the den, he headed down the hall to the kitchen. Reaching a hand out, he gently touched the locked door of Adam's room as he passed.

Chris kept the room an untouched shrine to his dead son. Under a thin layer of dust lay the beloved relics of the short life of a little boy. The bunk beds, the toy box, the cluttered bookshelf, the herd of Breyer horses on the dresser. All remained frozen in time, as though waiting for Adam's return. Nothing of Sarah Connelly Larabee remained in the house.

Upon her death, Chris had stripped the house of her possessions and anything that bore her touch. Her remaining clothes and jewelry, and any photos were sacrificed in a drunken, backyard bonfire. Anything in the house that she had chosen or bought was gone, from the contents of her former home office to the lace edged curtains that had adorned the kitchen windows. Chris had exorcised her presence ruthlessly from his life. He would never forgive her for her betrayal of his love and trust.

Vin sighed sadly. Anything that hurt Chris, in turn hurt him. Reaching the big, sunny kitchen, he opened the fridge and bent to pull out a couple of chilled longnecks. As he straightened, two big hands lightly clasped his hips, then slid around his waist. Vin froze instantly, recognizing the rich scent of Aramis and the big body crowding behind him.

He wasn't really surprised. Buck had been subtly pushing into his space for a couple of weeks now. The big man had always been touchy-feely, but lately he was blatantly flirtatious, using any opportunity to compliment Vin, or brush up against him. At first Vin had thought Buck was just trying to make up for when Vin had caught him with his head in Chris's crotch, but he had gradually come to recognize it for what it was. Buck wanted Chris, had always wanted Chris, so if that meant cosying up to Vin in order to have a chance with him, then so be it.

Vin could not, and would not share Chris with anyone. Larabee was the one living soul he allowed close to him, and that was that. Buck might fuck anything that was willing but that wasn't Vin's nature. Vin had been abused too much in his past to allow it.

Buck spoke huskily into his ear, "Looking mighty good, Vin."

"Take yer hands off me, Bucklin." Vin's voice was cold, but calm.

"Now, Vin, no reason to get hostile...we got a lot in common. We should get to know each other better..."

"You been drinking too much, Buck. Let go 'ah me!"

Tanner twisted and rammed a hard elbow back into Buck's ribs. When Buck oofed and stepped back, Vin slipped around him and out the kitchen door, the screen door slamming angrily behind him. Better to retreat than lose his temper and slam Buck's fool head into the wall.

Buck grimaced and leaned against the counter, rubbing his side, ruefully. Damn. That went well. Not one of my better ideas. Too much beer on an empty stomach.

"Buck." Larabee's voice was a soft, feral hiss.

Buck looked up to see the lean blond standing in the kitchen doorway, fists clenched, his handsome face tight with rage. Buck swallowed hard as the man stalked towards him, moving as silently as a big cat in his bare feet. Shit. Wilmington straightened and braced himself for the blow he knew was coming. Larabee stopped inches from his face.

Buck saw his fist raise, and closed his eyes. The loud crack of Chris slamming his palm against the cabinet beside his head made him jump, and jolted his eyes open.

Chris glared into his oldest friend's surprised eyes, fighting hard to keep his temper. When he spoke his voice was low and intense. Buck could feel his hot breath on his face.

"You're pushing it, Buck. You're pushing my patience. I'm only gonna give you this one warning. You want to stay my friend, you keep your goddamned hands off of Vin. You touch him again without his consent, and I'll kick your ass."

Larabee clamped one big hand around Buck's throat and squeezed for emphasis. Leaning even closer, his cold green eyes bore into Buck's sober blue ones, willing him to understand just how serious he was.

"He's my one true thing, Buck. Mine. You keep your fucking hands off him. You got an entire whorehouse to keep you entertained." He paused. "We got history, Buck, but the past is the past. Don't make me regret it."

Chris released him and stepped back. His fists clenched again as he fought his black rage for control, and took a deep, hard breath.

"Chris...I--"

"Save it, Buck. You might want to be thinking about either apologizing, or leaving. Choice is yours."

Larbee's tone was the cold, distant one he used for strangers, or people he didn't like. Buck swallowed hard, and nodded slowly. Turning away, Chris slammed out the kitchen door after Vin.

Buck stood quietly in the kitchen, looking blindly at the floor. One big hand lifted to absently smooth his moustache. A movement in the hall made him look up. Raphael leaned against the doorjamb.

"You're a very lucky man." The handsome Hispanic man spoke quietly, dark eyes intent on Buck's face. Buck looked at him mutely. "You pissed off both Tanner and Larabee, and lived to tell the tale."

Buck sank heavily into a kitchen chair, stared bleakly up at him, huffed out a deep breath, then replied slowly. " I don't think I care for the cost, pard."

Raphael walked over and stood gazing down at him. He suddenly reached out and lightly cupped Buck's face, calloused thumb ghosting over the dimple in his chin. Buck blinked up at him in surprise. Raphael gave him a tiny smile. "You are a smart man, Buck, but sometimes you fail to see what is in front of your face."

He continued to caress the handsome face for a long moment, rich brown eyes holding dark blue. Then, abruptly releasing him, he turned to rejoin the others. He stopped and looked back.

"When you are finished mooning over a man you never had, who does not want or appreciate you, let me know."

He walked away, boot heels clicking down the hall, leaving a stunned, open mouthed Buck Wilmington with something new to contemplate.

---

Chris found Vin in the barn. He stood staring blindly into Pony's stall, one hand absently stroking the horse's velvet nose, the other still clutching the forgotten bottles of Corona.

"That my beer?"

Chris approached him quietly, knowing how easily Vin spooked. Vin turned slowly towards him, his face a blank mask. Chris reached a slow hand out, relaxing a bit when Vin blinked, and handed him a bottle. Vin's eyes slid away from Larabee's, dropped to his battered boots.

"It's okay, Cowboy. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just Buck being Buck. Thinking with his dick instead of his head. I set him straight." Larabee spoke gently to that downcast face, and gently reached out and pushed Vin's hair back so he could see his eyes. Those troubled eyes flicked briefly up to his, before dropping again.

"He still alive?" Vin's voice was raspy, his Texas accent more evident, an indication of how upset he was.

Larabee felt a smile curl his lips."Yep. I didn't even punch him." Vin raised a brow. Chris sighed. "Okay, I might have hit the cabinet." The brow climbed higher."Okay, I DID hit the cabinet."

Larabee huffed. He WAS working on managing his bad temper. Buck WAS still alive. The corner of Vin's mouth twitched minutely. Chris took that as a good sign and sidled close enough to reach out and toy with a strand of Vin's hair. He smiled into those dark blue eyes, willing the younger man to see the humor in the situation.

That lopsided grin blossomed, and relieved, Chris leaned in to kiss it. He slid both arms around his partner and wrapped him in a warm embrace as their kiss grew deep and wet. Vin's hand reached up to cup Larabee's neck and card through his blond hair. Chris had let it grow out of the spiky cut he had sported in jail, and Vin loved to run his fingers through it.

Their intimate moment was rudely interrupted by the stentorian bellow of Josiah's deep bass from across the barnyard. The food was ready, and everyone was to get their asses in gear and come eat, before he fed it all to the cat. They broke apart sniggering. Chris kept one possessive arm around Vin's shoulders as he steered him towards the house. "You think Miss Lily could eat all that?" he joked with Vin.

Vin gave an exasperated snort. "Reckon she would try. Already looks like a fluffy bowling ball with legs and itty bitty feet." He gave Chris a sharp look. "Reckon you feed her too much as it is."

Outraged, Larabee's jaw dropped at the accusation.

"I FEED her too much? Who rode all the way into town the other night just because we were out of tuna fish?"

Tanner flushed and defended himself hotly. "Reckon I might have wanted a tuna sandwich."

"You HATE tuna fish!" Still bickering they ambled up the drive to the house. Larabee smirked across at Vin. "You spoil that cat, Tanner, not to mention that damned man-eating horse!"

Vin smirked right back at him.

"How's yer ass, Lar'bee?" He asked sweetly.

Chris gave him a silent snarl, then a cunning smile spread across his face, he leaned in close.

"Reckon I'm gonna need you to take a look at that later, Pard. Might need you to doctor it some more."

A broad, evil grin spread across the younger man's face. "Reckon we should have Rain take a look at it, her bein' a doctor and all. Might be ya need a tetanus shot."

He quickened his pace towards the house.

Larabee blanched at the thought of everyone else learning about his embarrassing injury. He hurried after Vin, only to yelp as he stepped on a sharp rock. Cursing, he hopped painfully in pursuit of the sniggering Texan. Damn, it was difficult to limp well, when you were lame in both legs!

"Now, Pard, let's not be hasty..."

Vin kept walking. Chris gave a resigned snort, stopped, and crossed his arms.

"Alright, what's it gonna cost me for you to keep quiet?"

Vin turned back, and gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence.

"Cost? Was only thinking about yer INJURY, Cowboy..." This last was pitched loudly enough to carry across the yard.

A sharp pair of brown eyes narrowed and focused on Larabee. "Injury? Who's hurt?" Rain Jackson demanded, hands on hips. Beside her, Nathan flashed a wide, predatory grin. JD's head swiveled around, and Chris could almost see his ears perk up. Like jackals, they could sense wounded prey. Chris hung his head in defeat.

"Ah, shit."

---

Chris Larabee gazed blearily up at the shadowed ceiling of his bedroom. He was sprawled out, flat on his back, long limbs akimbo on the cobalt blue sheets. He was breathing hard. Goddamned Texan was going to kill him. He knew damned well they had put a new set of dents in the wall behind the headboard. It was a wonder the box springs hadn't collapsed!

Vin lifted his head from where it was pillowed on a long, lean thigh and lazily licked the taste of Chris from his swollen lips. He grinned at the glazed, well laid look on his lover's face. The grin grew broader as Larabee weakly flailed a hand in his direction, probably trying to pull him up into an embrace. Too damned bad. Vin wasn't finished yet. The man had some serious meat on him, and Vin wanted another taste.

Chris moaned softly as he felt Tanner lightly blow across his soft, well sucked cock. Vin wasn't done with him yet! Damn. He wondered vaguely if he would be able to walk tomorrow. Damned Texan was gonna milk him dry. He licked his own lips, still tasting the bittersweet flavor of Vin. He moaned again as Vin delicately lapped at the fat mushroom head of his cock.

Clasping the organ by its thick root with one hand, he gently, relentlessly kneaded Chris's fat ball sac with the other. All the while, he continued to paint Chris's cock head with slow, dainty, cat like licks of his tongue, lapping up the droplets that oozed from the tiny slit.

Larabee groaned thickly at the unbearably sweet sensation pooling in his loins. His thighs quivered with tension. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gave a feeble croak, and tried again. "V-v-vin! T-o-o, too...sen-sen..."

He gasped for breath, eyes rolling up in his head, back arching helplessly. Vin took pity on him and raised his head, watching Chris's face with hungry anticipation. Patiently, he gave Larabee a few seconds to catch his breath and waited until the blond's hazy eyes focused on his face before deliberately lifting a hand to his mouth and sucking the index finger. Larabee's eyes widened. Vin's hot gaze held him mesmerized, as he realized what was about to happen.

Vin removed the wet digit from his mouth with a deliberate slurp. He slipped it easily under Chris's balls, and into his ass. Eyes on his lover's flushed face, he began to finger fuck him lazily, opening his tight hole. Chris cried out and clenched tight, as his soft cock began to flush rosily and lengthen again. Vin gave him a slow, feral smile. Larabee had teased him all damned day. It was payback time.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, Cowboy." He growled throatily. He removed his hand, and slapped Chris's uninjured ass cheek, hard. "Roll over, get on yer hands and knees, and show me that sweet ass."

Chris swallowed hard at the cool note of command in Tanner's raspy voice. Vin didn't take the reins often but when he did, Larabee could count on being rode hard and put up wet. Silently, he rolled over, braced his hands on the long suffering headboard, and presented his backside to his lover. He was already breathing hard in anticipation. Chris felt the mattress shift as Vin moved lazily into position behind him, one hand braced on Chris's hip, the other slowly slicking his erect cock up with lube.

Vin deliberately nudged his cock head up between Larabee's thighs, giving him a taste of the hard length he was about to take. He kneaded the tight ass cheeks, and lightly humped between his legs, ignoring Larabee's yelp as he squeezed the area bruised by Peso's bite. Finally, he mounted Chris, spreading him wide, and pushing his long, slick, hard length steadily inside, until he was buried to the root. Larabee cried out and bucked helplessly beneath him.

Strong fingers biting into the tender skin of Chris's hips, Vin pushed a knee between Larabee's muscular thighs, forcing them apart, widening his stance, so he could deepen the angle of his thrust. Shifting, he sank his weight on his man's broad back, leaning over to dig his teeth into Larabee's shoulder, one hand darting up to knot into his hair and hold him still. Chris yelped at the stinging pain. Tanner held him there a moment, tongue lazily lapping at his mark, then he slapped Chris's ass to get him moving, and began to thrust.

Vin fucked him with easy, steady strokes, setting an almost hypnotic pace. Chris panted, groaned, and pushed back against Tanner's crotch, relishing the feel of the coarse silk of Vin's pubic hair against his ass, the hot slap of heavy balls against his own. He clenched hard on every downstoke to keep Vin deep.

They began to move in sync, rutting noisily, then Vin abruptly growled and quickened the pace, thrusting hard and deep as he sought his pleasure, balls smacking wetly against Chris's ass cheeks, strong hands holding the lean hips hard enough to bruise. Chris was nearly berserk with sensation beneath him, white-knuckled hands gripping the headboard as he bucked back hard, seeking continuous stimulation to that tiny hot spot of perfect ecstasy deep inside.

The bed springs creaked, and the headboard pounded out a steady accompanying beat. Vin cracked a calloused palm hard against Larabee's pale ass, and that was all it took to bring them both over the edge. Larabee clenched tight. Vin spurted deep inside of Chris, who in turn anointed the sheets. They yelped and howled into their climax like a pair of horny coyotes, and collapsed into a sweaty, sticky, groaning heap; Vin still buried root deep.

They fell asleep like that, Chris sprawled face down in the pillows, Vin plastered on top of him, arms around his waist, their long legs entangled, tousled, curly head heavy on Larabee's shoulder. Dual sated, purring snores filled the cool night air.

A little gray cat hopped up on the end of the bed, tiny pink nose wrinkling fastidiously at the pungent odor of male musk. They were finally still! Damned tomcats. She curled up to join them in sleep, her steady purring blending with their snoring.

---

Larabee was awakened by a hoarse, equine scream of rage, and the clang of metal being battered by angry hooves. Startled, he sat up, aware that the morning sun was streaming through the window. He had slept late, Vin was already up and gone. Rolling out of bed, he shuffled over to peer out the window.

A glossy red horse van was parked down by the corral, and he recognized a familiar tousled head bent in conference with a stout Hispanic stockman. The latter was talking and gesturing wildly in expansive, dramatic gestures as he explained something to an absently nodding Vin. Two other men stood diffidently to one side, wary eyes on the angry stallion in the trailer.

"Shit. Ella's damned horse."

Larabee hobbled over to the closet and yanked out an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt. After a pit stop in the bathroom he ambled down to the corral to see what was going on. Vin's eyes twinkled at him over the shorter man's shoulder, amused at Larabee's lame gait.

"Morning Cowboy! Senor Aguilar here has a delivery for ya."

Larabee squinted sourly at his young partner. Tanner was entirely too perky this morning. Especially after last night. One of these mornings he was just gonna shoot him and be done with it. That would teach him.

"Buenos dias, Senor Larabee. I am pleased to meet you."

The short, stocky Hispanic beamed up at Chris. He offered a broad, calloused palm. Chris took it and shook. He turned to the trailer and eyed the wild-eyed horse within. "I take it this is Ella's problem horse?"

"Si, Senor. This one is a devil. Last week he nearly stomp Luis all the way to Hell. No one has been able to work him. Senora Gaines say to bring him to you."

Senor Aguilar indicated one of the nearby stockmen with a gesture. Luis nodded glumly in agreement, never taking his eyes off the snorting stallion.

"Well, let's unload him, and take a look."

Larabee indicated the nearby corral with the tall, heavy-duty reinforced fencing that he used to gentle the horses in. Vin stepped forward, lariat in hand, bright, interested eyes on the big horse. "Let me have him, Cowboy."

Chris quirked a blond brow, questioningly. Vin smiled and nodded back. "Okay, Pard, he's all yours." Larabee turned to the nearby men. "Open it up."

The moment the gate clanged down, the handsome blood bay surged out. A broken lead rope trailed from his battered halter. Vin had him lassoed before he stepped off the ramp. Squealing with rage, the stallion reared, hooves lashing out. Vin spoke gently, his husky Texas drawl a soothing murmur. He never raised his voice, or made a sudden move. He stood patiently, waiting out the stud's temper tantrum.

Curious, the horse dropped down to all fours, pawing nervously. He danced uneasily at the end of the rope for a few minutes, then his ears pricked at that gentle drawl. He snorted and took a tentative step towards Vin. Tanner continued to speak gently to the bay, crooning a soft soothing litany. The big horse extended his handsome head, nostrils flared, snuffling suspiciously. Vin waited. Nervously the bay paced forward, ears still pricked, bright, intelligent eyes alert for any sudden movement from this man.

Vin stood like a stone. As the animal tentatively approached, he lowered his already soft voice, almost to a whisper. Small ears pricked forward to catch every word. The stud stopped a few feet away from Tanner. He slowly extended a velvety black nose to whuff cautiously at Vin's extended hand. Chris saw that Vin held a small piece of soft molasses candy. The stud nosed his palm, velvet lips removing the candy delicately.

Chris glanced sideways at the soft gasp from Senor Aguilar. The man's dark eyes were wide with astonishment. Chris smirked proudly. Tanner had an intuitive way with all wild things. Shit, he was feral himself. It wasn't surprising that he already had this animal literally eating out of his hand. Give him a week and the damned horse would probably be following him around like a puppy. Chris grimaced, and rubbed his bruised ass ruefully. Hell, Vin already had one pet devil!

They watched silently as Tanner turned slowly and led the stallion into the open corral. The horse followed calmly. Once inside, Vin carefully slid the lasso from the arched, glossy neck, coiling it over his shoulder. Still speaking softly, he slowly brought a hand up and rubbed the horse's jaw. The horse sniffed deeply at this man with the sweet voice and the gentle hands, breathing in the comforting scents of sun, hay, and cedar. To the watching men's surprise, Tanner reached up and slipped off the old halter as well.

Startled, the bay snorted and jerked back. He was surprised further when Vin made no attempt to restrain him. He stopped, snorting with astonishment. Where was the yelling, the curses, the harsh, stinging blows? Vin made no movement towards him, just continued to speak gently. Curious, the horse stepped cautiously forward again. He sniffed cautiously at Tanner's face, deadly teeth inches away, snorting softly when Vin huffed gently back into his nostrils in a polite equine greeting.

The bay whinnied softly, sighed deeply, and dropped his big head to boldly nudge Vin in the chest in a blatant request for attention. Vin spoke tenderly to the animal as he carefully stroked the handsome chiseled head, scratched behind his pricked ears, and smoothed a palm down the powerful neck. He frowned at the welts he felt on the glossy withers. This beautiful creature had been whipped recently.

The Mexicans leaning against the corral shook their heads and murmured in astonishment. This gringo must be a brujo, a male witch. He tamed with his voice alone. Senor Aguilar removed his straw stetson, and scratched his graying head in amazement. Luis muttered excitedly to his companion.

"Madre de Dios! Tiene una lengua de miel!"

Turning to Larabee, the older man translated. "He has a tongue made of honey!"

Chris turned and gave the man a broad, shit-eating grin. "You have no idea, amigo!"

Larabee waved goodbye as Senor Aguilar and his boys headed off up the drive. He turned and put one boot on the bottom rail and leaned against the corral. Vin was still gentling the stallion. The big animal was calm now, nosing gently against Tanner's shirt, making no attempt to move out of his reach.

He was a beautiful creature. A tall blood bay, with a flowing black mane and tail, he stood almost sixteen hands high. The stud was powerfully muscled, with long, clean limbs, and a smooth, easy gait. He stood quietly under Vin's hands, head up, looking around his new surroundings with interest, nostrils flaring. Vin gave him one last pat and turned back to Chris. His mouth was set in a grim line, as he walked over to join Larabee.

"What's up Pard?" Chris asked softly, recognising the signs of anger held under a tight leash.

Vin huffed out a breath and slapped the top rail as he climbed over. "He's been whipped, Chris. Recent too. Got fresh welts over old scars on both his withers and his flanks. Looks like someone used a quirt on him. He ain't a bad horse, he's just scared."

Larabee snarled. Nothing pissed him off more than to see an animal abused. He frowned, thinking back to what Senor Aguilar had told him about the horse. Supposedly, Ella had only purchased him recently. An ugly idea struck him. "Fuck."

Vin looked at him questioningly.

"Ella." Chris spat to one side and explained further. "She probably used him as an excuse to see me. She practically stalked me through my senior year of college. Once she gets an idea in that dim brain of hers it tends to stick."

Vin frowned. He knew about stalkers, and what usually happened to their victims. Better to kill the woman now, than give her the opportunity to harm Chris. He looked doubtfully at Chris. "She dangerous, Chris?"

Chris sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back. "Hell, she was harmless when I knew her before. I told Ez to run a check on her. He said her name was familiar; thought maybe Maude knew her. Let's wait and see what turns up."

Vin nodded slowly. He would reserve judgment for now. However, if the woman proved to be a threat to Larabee, then Vin would have no qualms about shooting her.

As usual, Chris read his mind. He gave his young lover an amused grin. "Can always blow her head off later, pard." Larabee leaned confidingly close, green eyes sparkling with wicked glee. "Senor Aguilar says you got a tongue made of honey. I just had to agree."

Vin blushed scarlet and scowled at Larabee.

Unperturbed, Chris flung an arm over the smaller man's shoulders, guiding him back to the house. They would leave the stallion to his trough of cool, fresh water, and bates of sweet hay. There would be time to work with him later, when the big horse felt settled and calm in his new surroundings.

"How about we head into town? The boys went through that ice cream so fast yesterday, I never even got a taste. We can meet Ez for lunch, and stop at Sweet Sue's for dessert...Honey."

Vin spun, whacked Larabee smartly on his sore ass with the coiled lariat he carried, then sprinted for the house. Larabee cussed, glared, and hobbled gamely in hot pursuit. Should have shot that boy years ago. He grinned suddenly in remembrance of their heated coupling the night before. On the other hand, maybe he would wait until he could walk straight again.

---

Kensington Townhomes, Four Corners

Ezra Standish put down the phone with a sigh. Mr. Larabee had requested his presence at lunch, at the Saloon. He groaned at the throbbing in his head, and peered through bloodshot eyes at the bedside clock. Lord, it wasn't even ten o'clock. An unspeakable hour. He hauled his aching body out of bed and made a mental note to himself to never, ever go out drinking with the boys after consuming several of Rain Jackson's lethal margaritas.

He shuffled into the spacious bathroom. He had vague memories of leaving the cookout, blearily ensconced in the sidecar of Mr. Wilmington's motorcycle, followed by a whirlwind round of bars and tequila shots.

Then Mr. Wilmington had insisted they all stop at that Body Art parlor...the one owned by the amazingly buxom redhead...someone nattering on about a special design...things became very hazy after that. He frowned, absently reaching back to rub his throbbing buttock. Had he passed out, taken a fall and bruised his hip? It was especially tender today.

Standish dropped his silk pajama bottoms and stepped into the gleaming shower cubicle. He sighed with bliss as the steaming water poured over his stiff, aching body. He soaped himself slowly, feeling much more refreshed, and marginally more awake.

After rinsing he stepped out, reaching for the plush bath sheet, and automatically checking his appearance in the foggy, floor length mirrors opposite the tub, before heading into his large walk-in closet. As he dropped the towel and turned to reach for his heavy silk dressing gown, something in the side mirror caught his eye. He froze, staring into his own horrified green eyes. They wouldn't dare...would they? He frantically wiped the steamy mirror and took a closer look. Blinked, and looked again. Slowly, he peered over his own shoulder.

An outraged shriek rang through the elegant townhouse as the horrible truth dawned. Those perfidious, treacherous, ignoble, shameless, unchivalrous bastards had had the gall to tattoo Ezra P. Standish's previously pristine posterior. There would be hell to pay.

---

Inez' Saloon, Outskirts of Four Corners

Chris Larabee eased the big, rumbling Harley into its customary line up with the other bikes parked outside of the Saloon. Vin pulled up beside him on the gleaming, blood red Honda Magma he was currently riding. Tanner's venerable Indian was up on blocks at the ranch, sidelined while the engine was rebuilt -- again. It was increasingly difficult to keep the antique bike on the road, but Vin loved it, and patiently searched for parts every time the damned thing decided to kick the bucket.

Chris grinned at his partner, enjoying the sight of that tanned, wind flushed face, the dark blue eyes bright and sparkling. Vin had his long hair knotted back in its usual tangled ponytail under a blue bandanna, and wore a battered leather vest sporting the Dark Angels logo over his denim shirt. His jeans were old and faded and clinging in all the right places. Larabee thought he looked mighty fine.

Glancing down the row of bikes, Larabee saw that Buck, JD, and Raphael were already present. Josiah was working at the convent gardens today, and presumably Nathan was at the Mortuary. To his mild surprise, he also saw Ezra's BMW parked nearby. He had just turned his head to comment to Vin on Standish's early arrival, when the sharp crack of a pistol shot from inside the Saloon jerked them to hyper alertness.

Larabee drew the Colt automatic he wore clipped in a belt holster at the small of his back. Vin had already fluidly yanked the compact Mossberg shotgun he favored from his bike's saddlebag, and racked a shell in. Moving swiftly and covering each other they shouldered their way inside the dim bar, guns leveled. It never occurred to either of them, NOT to enter.

What they found brought them up short. Inez stood behind the bar, hands on hips, glaring at the trio of Dark Angels huddled uneasily against the far wall. Everyone in the bar, with the exception of Inez, Ez and the three in the corner wore broad grins. Buck, Rafe, and JD huddled together, hands up, while Ezra Standish threatened them with a pearl handled derringer. There was a bullet hole in the plaster three inches to the left of Buck's head, and his moustache was twitching in consternation.

"Now Ez, don't be that way, you know we were ALL drunk..."

Buck spoke soothingly to try and calm the irate conman. The big scoundrel brightened at the sight of Chris and Vin, and waggled his brows in a silent plea for rescue.

"Yeah, Ez, ya ain't the only one! We all got one."

JD piped up from behind the relative safety of Wilmington's tall frame. Raphael sighed and closed his eyes. The whelp's motor mouth would be the death of them all. Chris and Vin exchanged amused looks, and lowered their weapons.

"Someone want to tell me what the hell's going on here?" Chris asked mildly, as he tucked his gun away.

Vin had already lowered his shotgun, so that the muzzle pointed to the floor. Inez turned and broke into a rapid stream of Spanish that made Larabee scratch his head in confusion and caused Vin to arch an amused brow. Buck started to step forward and explain, but hastily retreated when Standish aimed his gun directly at his balls. Buck opened his mouth, thought better of it, and meekly subsided in his corner.

Larabee lifted a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. Ezra was as mad as a wet hen. Chris could almost see the steam rising from the man's reddened ears. Apparently one of the boys' pranks was having unforseen repercussions. Inez reached the end of her tirade, tossed her head, and snorted disdainfully. Chris walked over to the bar, and leaned against it thoughtfully. "Let me see if I've got this straight. Y 'all did something to Ez, and he plans to shoot you dead. That it?"

The trio in the corner frowned, then nodded reluctantly. Ezra was so irate he was speechless for all of three seconds. He turned slightly so that he could speak with Larabee directly, and still keep the boys corralled.

"Did something? Did something?!" he bellowed, face scarlet with temper. "These ignoble, wretched, TREACHEROUS spawn of a syphilletic she-goat have assaulted mah person!"

Larabee's lips twitched as he manfully fought back a broad grin. Trust Ezra to use eight words when one would do. Beside him, Vin hastily muffled a snort in the mug of beer that Inez absently slid across to him. Every time Ez opened his mouth, Vin learned a new word.

Chris scratched his goatee thoughtfully, bright wicked eyes on three chagrined faces. He could feel Vin's shoulder shake with silent laughter against his back. He folded his arms, leaned back, and eyed his men solemnly. They began to look worried. Larabee raised a stern brow. "You all get drunk and cornhole Ezra?"

Behind him Vin sputtered and sprayed a mouthful of beer over the bar. Inez squeaked and clapped both hands over her mouth. Down the bar, Tiny rolled off his stool, braying with laughter, while his brother gamely tried to shush him. All the other bikers howled with mirth. In the corner, Raphael gave a choked, protesting squawk, JD stammered a shocked denial, and Buck's jaw dropped in disbelief. Ezra regarded his boss with horror, pistol sagging in his grip, as he visibly deflated. Larabee smirked.

---

Buck patted the morose conman gently on the shoulder. They all sat at the big corner booth, huddled over the remains of lunch. He pulled up the sleeve of his own T shirt to display the livid tattoo on his biceps.

"So ya see, pard, we all got skunked and came home decorated. Rafe has one on his shoulder, and the kid's is on the calf of his leg. You ain't the only one."

He draped a big arm comfortingly over Standish's drooping shoulders. Raphael and JD grinned encouragement at the Southerner. Larabee and Tanner smirked complacently at him across the table. THEY did not have tattoos. Ezra lifted his head and glared into Buck's earnest, beaming face. "Mr. Wilmington, be that as it may. I do however, note that none of you sport a design on the posterier! I also would also like to point out that not one of you carries THIS particular pattern."

Pushing himself abruptly up out of the booth, he turned his backside to the seated men, and lowered his trousers to display his left buttock. There was a moment of silence. Then Vin snickered, JD dropped his fork, and Rafe guffawed as he nearly choked on a mouthful of beer. Buck gaped, and a broad shark grin spread across Larabee's smirking face. They all burst into raucous, unkind laughter, while Standish rearranged his clothing and glared.

Buck sputtered, and wiped his streaming eyes with one big hand.

"Now Ez, it could be worse..."

JD chimed in earnestly, "The heart is real pretty, Ez."

"That bitty baby with the wings is right cute, Ez."

Ezra shot Vin a look of intense dislike. "THAT is a cherub, Mr. Tanner, not a bitty baby."

"Sorry, Ez." Mr. Tanner did not look sorry at all. He gave Standish an unrepentant grin.

"Too bad they spelled Mother wrong," Raphael added with a chuckle.

Vin scratched his head, contemplatively. "Reckon that must be the southern spelling."

Standish groaned and sank back down in the booth. He lowered his head to his arms. Buck patted his back soothingly. Maybe he would wake up and it all would be a bad dream. Instead of being surrounded by sniggering hyenas, he would be safely ensconced in his beloved feather bed. Instead of calculating the -- no doubt exorbitant -- cost of laser surgery, he could be blissfully asleep.

He raised his head and glared at his so called friends. THEY all sported the sleek, admittedly trendy upraised black-winged Dark Angel logo while HE bore a puffy red heart, complete with a tiny smirking cherub perched on top, and the word Mothah in bold, elaborate cursive scribbled on a pale blue ribbon that unfurled across the heart. Good Lord, the cretins could not even spell correctly! Only he bore the epidermal equivilant of graffiti upon his person. The sheer indignity of it all, was almost overpowering.

Larabee leered at him and leaned over to give him an encouraging slap on the shoulder. "Come on, Ez. Let's head for Sweet Sue's for dessert. Buck can buy you a slice of that pecan pie with the fancy French vanilla ice cream, you like so much. Then you can tell me what you found out about Ella."

---

Santa Maria Plaza, Four Corners

Ella Gaines twirled before the mirror in the exclusive bridal shop, checking the fit of the lavish lace gown she wore with a critical eye. She made a small moue of distaste, and turned to the patiently hovering clerk.

"No, this won't do either. Bring me that silk Vera Wang."

The clerk hurried away to fetch the gown, and Ella hummed softly to calm herself as she paced before the tall windows, waiting. She reminded herself to be patient. The perfect wedding to the perfect man required the finest dress available. She raised a bejeweled hand to toy with her hair, gazing dreamily down into the wide plaza.

Santa Maria Plaza was the heart of old town Four Corners. It had recently revitalized due to the trendy, exclusive shops that now joined the venerable establishments of Digger Dan's Bar and Potter's Mercantile. The old Saloon had relocated to the outskirts of town years before.

Sweet Sue's Emporium was tucked into a corner, flanked by a florist and an organic grocery. Restaurants and upscale boutiques crowded the old Spanish style square, which opened onto Main Street. Katherine's Bridal Shop covered half of the second floor of Potter's Mercantile. Only the wealthiest of Four Corner's brides shopped there as she sold only designer gowns.

Ella smiled, head full of visions of her upcoming life with Christopher Larabee. It would be perfect. She was certain of it. She started to turn back to the dressing rooms, then froze, her gaze caught by a familiar wheat gold head in the square below. Her wide smile faltered and died when she saw the lovely blond seated across from him. Their heads were bent close together, Larabee's eyes intent on her face, one big hand holding her wrist.

---

Chris Larabee leaned thoughtfully back in the cafe chair, and nodded absently as Ezra finished his tale. The debonair southerner dabbed daintily at his mouth with a napkin and eyed the remains of his pie with satisfaction.

"Ah will admit, Mr. Larabee, that Ah was surprised to learn that Mrs. Gaines had worked her way through three wealthy, elderly husbands in such a short time. Mothah was quite virulent about the subject, she has an extreme dislike of Mrs. Gaines. Ah believe her kindest comments were Black Widow and Whore. Ah suspect Mrs. Gaines may have whisked away a potential candidate for Mothuh's collection of husbands."

Maude Standish had standards. She might relieve a man of his dignity and every dime he possessed, but she would never be so crude as to murder one.

Larabee chuckled and polished his shades on a corner of his black Tee. He slid them back on and stretched lazily in the sun, blond head tilted back to enjoy the warmth. He grinned impishly at Standish. "I can't say I'm surprised. Ella always has been a man-eater in the worse sense of the word. Hell, she wore out Buck in a single night!"

Standish coughed, then laughed. "Mr. Wilmington was a very lucky man to have escaped, ahem, intact."

Larabee grinned. "Hell, Buck always has good luck with women. It's their men he has problems with! If I had a dime for every piece of shot I've dug out of his ass, I'd be a rich man."

They laughed together, both men gazing towards the florist. Buck and JD emerged, both laden with colorful bouquets. Buck, in true Wilmington style often brought flowers home to his girls at Blossom's.

He was flirting outrageously with the plump, grandmotherly proprietor as he left, leaning down to whisper something lewd in her ear. She threw her head back and roared with laughter, then swatted him affectionately on the ass and shooed him down the sidewalk. Shaking her gray head, she fondly watched him go.

Larabee shook his head and turned back to Ezra. "Ez, see if you can find out how much money Ella has inherited, where she keeps it, etc. Anything suspicious you can find out about how those husbands of hers met their untimely demises. Also, I want to know how she acquired the Rivera ranch. There's something funny about that. The Jorge Rivera I knew would never sell his family homestead, especially to a gringa."

The svelte conman rose from his chair and tipped an imaginary hat. "Ah live to serve, Mr. Larabee. Ah believe mothah would be extremely pleased to see Mrs. Gaines brought down a notch or two. She will be delighted to assist. She detests the woman. Ah will investigate post haste. Now, if you will excuse me, Ah have an appointment with my tailor."

He turned and strolled off across the square. Larabee lazily watched him go, sipping at the beer he held. Across the way, Buck and JD were stuffing flowers in the sidecar of Buck's bike, bickering amiably. Chris had always suspected that he kept the sidecar for the sole purpose of hauling an extra woman around, instead of just one. That theory seemed to pan out, considering the various sets of twins Buck dated.

Larabee snorted. Hell, Buck lived in and ran a whorehouse, owned a strip club, and dated half of the women in New Mexico, and now apparently had his sights set on Vin! It was a wonder Chris didn't have white hair instead of blonde. He huffed out an exasperated breath and ran a hand through his hair.

He knew Buck was restless and felt threatened somehow. He just didn't know how to reassure the big man without giving him the wrong idea. He loved Buck like a brother but had no intention of being his lover. Since the barbeque, tension had mounted between Buck and Vin. Vin hadn't said a word to Buck since, avoiding him whenever possible. Chris had the impression that Buck wanted to smooth things over, but wasn't sure how.

Sourly, he took another pull from the bottle, and looked around for his wayward lover. He squinted back into Sweet Sue's. Yep, there was a familiar tousled head bent over the candy display, with Sue beaming down at him. Probably buying more molasses candy for the horses. Chris devoutly hoped Vin didn't spoil the damned stallion the way he did Peso. A jealous colt was one thing to deal with, a stallion another. He snorted. That's all he needed, a jealous, 1800 pound horse, just waiting to stomp him into a greasy spot on the ground every time he laid a hand on Vin. Groaning, he realized that Peso WAS growing up fast. Shit.

Something bumped into his boot, and he looked down to find a small, remote controlled car had crashed against it and tipped over. He picked it up, turning it curiously in his big hands. Adam would have loved that. He thought with a pang.

"Hey! That's mine." A thin voice shrilled into his ear. A plump, blond boy of about eight hovered next to his chair, a remote clutched in his hands. Chris arched a scarred brow and scowled. "Are you a Hell's Angel?" The little boy piped up excitedly.

"No kid. I'm worse. Now scram!"

He handed the child the toy.

"Billy!"

Chris sighed, as he recognized the slender, platinum haired woman approaching at a fast clip. She wore a sky blue silk dress and had her pale hair tied demurely back with ribbon. Shit. It would be Mary Travis's whelp, and just as nosy as his damned mother.

"Billy! Go sit in the car. Wait for me."

"Aw, mom. I wasn't doin' anything." The child shuffled off sulkily to climb into a nearby silver Lexus.

She turned a flushed face towards Chris. The last time she had seen him had been...embarrassing. She felt a rosy flush spread tingling over her skin as he turned a handsome, expressionless face towards her, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. He was the most dangerous man she knew, and undoubtedly the sexiest. He KNEW who was behind her husband's murder. She knew it. She yanked out the chair across from him and sat quickly. "Mr. Larabee...I want to ask you a few questions."

His wide mouth split into a leer. "Why sure, Miz Travis. Just as long as you answer mine in return."

His leer grew into a wide, shark grin and she felt the hair on the nape of her neck raise. She glanced around the plaza nervously. She had been elated to see him alone, he was so rarely without one of his gang nearby...or his...lover. Now, she wasn't so sure, and was thankful it was broad daylight and in a public place. Nervously, she began. " I think you know who murdered my husband..."

"Sure do," he replied amiably. Her jaw dropped in shock, only to snap shut as he continued. "The same man that killed my wife and son."

He deliberately removed his shades, leaned over and grasped her wrist hard, cold eyes intent on her face. "Tell ME something Miz Travis, if good old Stephen was meeting Sarah just for information, why did they meet twice a week at the Dew Drop Inn, and register as husband and wife?"

He leaned closer, and this time showed white teeth in something that was not a smile. He gazed almost tenderly into her pale face and spoke gently. "Go home, Mary. Get a life. Raise your son. Mind your own fucking business, and the next time you feel the need to moon over your sainted husband, remember that there were two sets of luggage in the truck that day."

He withdrew his hand, slid his shades back on, lazily leaned back, and took another sip of beer. Dismissing her as coolly as a king would a serf. Shaken, she opened her mouth, but found she could not speak. She rose dizzily, and, pushing her chair away, stumbled towards her car. Impassively, he watched her go.

Standing stock still in the window above, Ella dug her long nails viciously into her palms and bit her lip until she tasted blood. Her gaze was riveted on Larabee like that of a starving animal. Sensing the touch of eyes, she turned her head slightly, and focused past Larabee.

Dark hungry eyes met implacable, glacial blue. While she was watching Larabee, Vin Tanner was watching her. She froze, held by that laser sharp stare. He never blinked, just leaned against a post and stared until she shivered, dropped her eyes, and turned away. Predator had just met predator, and lost the first battle in a war she did not yet realize she was waging.

Ella turned a bright, false smile on the shop clerk and turned to indicate the plaza below.

"Tell me, who is that blonde woman? She looks so familiar..."

The woman adjusted her bifocals and peered out the window. She smiled in recognition.

"Why, that's Mary Travis. You probably saw her on the local news. She's a reporter with KLVN."

The clerk stepped behind Ella and began to help her undo the multitude of tiny buttons on the gown she wore. She sighed and shook her head. "It was so tragic. Her husband was killed about five years ago with a car bomb. The entire family went into shock. Why, I thought Eveline Travis would have to be hospitalized before it was over..."

She prattled on, while Ella nodded and smiled in all the right places, absorbing information. Her mind was busy sifting through what she had learned. Had Chris murdered the man in order to be with the wife? She frowned. That didn't make sense. He would have married or moved in with the woman by now. Also, the Christopher Larabee she knew would never callously murder his own son. Well, it didn't matter. The woman would be dead soon, anyway. She turned a bright smile on the clerk. "I've just remembered an appointment. I won't have time to try on the Vera Wang today, but I will be back in town in a few days. Do you think you will have that Dior in stock soon?"

"Certainly Ma'am. It is the peak wedding season. We expect a new shipment of gowns tomorrow. If I may ask, when is your wedding?"

Ella gave her a bright, dazzling smile.

"Oh, we haven't set the exact date, but soon, very soon."

---

Chris Larabee felt a familiar presence at his back and gave a small, private smile. He lazily tilted his head to meet smiling blue eyes. Vin was leaning against the nearby post. He held both a bag, and a large bakery box. "Hey, Cowboy."

Larabee leered happily up at his young lover. "You buy out Sue's again? Kid, you're lucky you still got teeth."

Vin gave him an indignant scowl, then sniffed hauntily. "Reckon you won't be wanting any of this peach pie, then. Reckon I can eat it all myself."

Larabee's eyes widened. Sue's pies were delicious. He pushed his chair back and hastily stood.

"Now, pard. You wouldn't hold out on me would you?"

Vin smirked and ambled on towards the bikes. Larabee caught up in two long strides, and draped a long arm over his shoulders. He glanced at his blond lover, noticing the easy smile and relaxed face. It seemed to him that Chris was happier these days, smiling and joking more, while he drank less. He hated to bring a scowl to that handsome face. "Ella's watching you."

"What? When--?" Larabee frowned, turned sharp eyes on him.

"Just now. From the window of that Bride store."

Vin slanted a glance over to judge his reaction. "Looks like she was trying on a dress."

Larabee groaned. Goddamned crazy woman. That's all he fucking needed. "Aw, shit. Let's get the hell out of here."

Vin grinned. "Ain't afraid of no skinny, little woman, are ya, Cowboy?"

"Hell, yes! If you knew this one, you would be too! She's the type that eats you alive, spits out the remains, and looks around for dessert afterwards. I hope to hell she's got her sights on someone else. Ez says she's already buried three husbands."

They almost made a clean getaway. Vin had just finished carefully bungee cording his precious pie to the back of his bike, when a familiar red convertible pulled up behind them, blocking the way. Ella gave Chris her familiar barracuda grin. "Chris. I'm glad I caught you."

He gave an inaudible sigh. Not if I can help it, lady. "Ella."

He remained astride his bike, obviously ready to leave and not interested in chitchat. Vin kept his head down, hair screening his face as he fussed with the placement of the damned pie box, but Chris was sure he saw a hidden smirk. He forced himself to nod politely at the woman. She beamed back.

"My foreman says you've already done wonders with my horse."

"Not me, Ella. Vin is doing all the hard work." He folded his arms and gave her a hard look.

"Looks like that stud has been beaten regular, Ella. You know anything about that?"

Her eyes widened. "Why no, Chris! I had no idea." She gave a little frown. "It must have been one of those Mexican grooms."

Dismissing the subject of the abused animal with a toss of her head, she continued, eager eyes glued to Larabee's face. "I wanted to invite you to my birthday party, Chris. You will come, won't you? It will be just like old times." Seeing the frown growing on his face, she hastily continued, "And do bring some of your boys, that should liven things up! Senator Royal will be there, Congressman Sikes, as well as Judge Travis and other prominent citizens. A few friends of my late husband. Lots of business connections..." she hinted, as she gave him a sweet smile. "Do come. I'll send you the invitations."

"I'll think about it Ella." He gave her a dismissing nod and ended any further chance for conversation by deliberately starting, and revving the engine of the big Harley. She frowned, but waved and drove on. Vin tossed his head back and flashed Chris a white smile, shaking his head. Larabee just flashed his familiar smirk right back. Side by side, they pulled out of the plaza and headed for home.

---

Inez' Saloon, Three Days Later

Chris leaned back in the booth, long, black clad legs propped on up on the opposite seat. Ezra sat across from him, examining the small stack of engraved invitations. The southerner thoughtfully tapped a card against the table top. "Ah do believe we should take advantage of this golden opportunity, Mr. Larabee. It would be a prime opportunity to...ahem..."

"Case the joint?" Larabee asked dryly. He took a sip from his shot glass.

"To investigate and initiate potential business opportunities." Standish finished smoothly.

Buck leaned forward, frowning. One big hand toyed with his moustache as he ran scenarios through his head. "Travis is gonna be there. Not to mention Sikes and Royal. We got a room full of politicians with a taste for vice. Travis has a 65,000.00 gambling marker floating. Royal is a collector...likes exotic women, among other things. Sikes drinks like a fish and snorts coke. I think we should take a shot at installing a few digital cameras before the party."

"Blackmail? Suggestions, Buck?"

Larabee asked curiously. It never failed to amaze him. Buck and Ez scheming together was a frightening thing. They could find ways to squeeze money out of a rock. He found the thought of fleecing Ella of her ill gotten gains curiously appealing.

Buck beamed at him. "We can thank Raphael and his infinite multitude of doting female relatives. His cousin Julia is Ella's maid. Ella treats her like a dog. Julia will be happy to help. She used to work for the Riveras. Julia says she can hide a few mini-cams easily. Thanks to her, we already got the floor plans and security set-up. Ella is gonna be in town most of the day tomorrow getting fitted for her party dress." Buck rubbed his big hands together and beamed at Larabee.

"We got enough invites. I say we show up at staggered intervals. Keep Ella busy, meeting and greeting. Nathan and Rain go in first, get the grand tour, check the cams. Then me and the kid escort in a couple of my best girls. Royal's eyeballs will pop out of his head when he sees Ebony, and Chantal can play Sikes. They're great actresses. The kid can hit Ella's computer and get a crack at her records..."

Ezra cut smoothly in, taking up where Buck left off.

"You, Mr. Larabee, arriving alone, will be the primary distraction as far as Mrs. Gaines is concerned. Then, Mr. Tanner and Ah will make an appearance. Ah will slip into the den at the first opportunity and examine the safe. Mr. Cordova de Martinez and Mr. Sanchez will be outside investigating the grounds and checking out the security."

Ezra spread his hands wide, then folded them. "Ah foresee only one potential problem."

Puzzled, Chris and Buck looked at him curiously. Standish gave a long suffering sigh at their obtuseness. "This is a Black Tie affair gentleman. Howevah are we going to persuade Mr. Tanner to don the appropriate attire?"

Three heads swiveled as one to where their sharpshooter was leaning over the pool table, playing eight ball with JD.

Vin wore faded jeans, tattered at the thighs and knees, dusty, scuffed cowboy boots, an ancient, torn, tissue thin white T shirt, topped by his old black leather motorcycle jacket. When he bent to take his shot, the holster at the small of his back was clearly visible. The haft of a skinning knife protruded from the top of his left boot. His wild, wind-tangled mane was carelessly tied back with a bootlace. Sensing he was being observed, he squinted suspiciously over at them.

Chris eyed the lean behind and long legs appreciatively. He grinned evilly across at Ezra.

"I'll leave that up to you, Ez. You being the fashion expert and all."

Buck's moustache was twitching with stifled amusement. He slapped Ezra jovially on the shoulder. "You're a brave soul, Ez. Sooner wrassle a gator, or kiss a rattler, myself. Should be interesting to see how much of his personal arsenal you can persuade him to leave at home."

Ezra groaned and closed his eyes. He shuddered at the thought of his upcoming trials and tribulations as Mr. Tanner's personal valet. He snorted. Only Mr. Larabee was persuasive enough to force him to act as dresser to a mulish, recalcitrant, unstylish Texan. He leaned forward and banged his head gently on the table top. Buck patted his back consolingly and discreetly slid a folded napkin between his head and the hard surface.

---

Gaspar's Les Hommes, Santa Maria Plaza, Four Corners

Gaspar St. Pierre (formerly known as Casper Meeks) winced at the foul stream of profanity issuing from the dressing room at the back of his exclusive men's shop. He arched a brow at the series of thumps and thuds that followed. In his opinion, Mr. Standish was either an extremely courageous individual, or a fool.

"Gawdammit, Ezra, I said no!"

"Mr. Tanner, Ah insist!"

"NO!"

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"Ain't gonna wear no sissy shoes, Ez!"

Gaspar gasped in horror and ducked as a pair of expensive, handcrafted Italian loafers sailed over his head to thud on the floor. Hurriedly, he bent to rescue them.

"Mr. Tanner, Ah implore you..."

"I said no Ezra, and I fuckin' meant it! Ain't gonna wear this cum'bun thing neither!"

The hapless cummerbund followed the shoes to drape gently on top of Gaspar's carefully marceled toupee. Good heavens! The man was indeed a Philistine!

Vin Tanner had reached the end of his considerable patience. He had reluctantly obeyed Chris's request that he meet Ez at the men's store to suit up for the party, only to be poked, prodded, measured, and forced to stand still and try on a dozen versions of the same damned monkey suit! The bow tie was choking him to death and the danged shoes had pinched his toes. He had had enough. He stormed out of the dressing room, yanking off the detested tie as he went, high cheekbones flushed with temper. Ezra followed, desperate, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Mr. Tanner, Ah nevuh thought of you as a coward!"

Vin stopped in his tracks, and Ezra froze, swallowing hard, as a pair of artic blue eyes focused on his face. "What did you call me?"

Vin's voice was dangerously calm. Ezra gulped, abruptly remembered whom he was dealing with, and tried again, appealing to the sharpshooter's honor. "Sir, you are a Tanner! You cannot leave Mr. Larabee unprotected in that Black Widow's clutches!" He lifted his hands imploringly, cunning green eyes on Vin's visibly wavering expression. He leaned forward and murmured softly for Vin's ears alone. "She has already murdered three men. You know as well as I, that obsessive personalities such as she seldom relinquish the object of their twisted desire."

He stepped closer, and dropped a gentle hand on Vin's shoulder. He spoke quietly, green eyes sober. "Ah do not think Mr. Larabee realizes just how dangerous this particular female of the species is, Mr. Tanner. His perception is colored by his past memories of the woman, as exasperating, but relatively harmless."

Vin nodded slowly, dropped his head and studied his socked feet. Ezra held his breath. Vin raised his head. "Ain't wearing them sissy shoes, Ez! Or this danged tie neither!"

Ezra groaned and slumped in in defeat.

"Sirs, if I might offer a few minor suggestions?"

Gaspar squeaked up bravely. He was determined to rid his store of this untamed Texan as soon as possible and protect his precious merchandise. Two heads turned hopefully in his direction.

---

An hour later, Ezra held his breath as Vin emerged from the dressing room. His gold tooth glinted as a broad, triumphant smile spread across his face. The defiant duckling had successfully transformed into an elegant swan! Vin shyly examined his reflection in the mirrors, oblivious to the fact that a male clerk hovering nearby was visibly drooling.

He wasn't wearing a trendy, modern tuxedo. Instead of a bow tie, his plain, white banded collar shirt was fastened by a single, jeweled button. Over the shirt he wore a severely cut Deacon's vest with a hidden button placket, made of antique, cobalt blue silk that accentuated the color of his eyes. His black coat was of an old fashioned cut as well. High collared and tapered at the waist, the long, pleated tail swirled out dramatically, like a nineteenth century opera coat.

Instead of the detested loafers, he wore sleek, black snakeskin western boots. His carefully tamed mane was held neatly back with a lapis bolo tie. His was a statement of old fashioned, timeless elegance. He looked as though he had stepped out of an antique western daguerreotype.

Vin checked the fit of the coat carefully, totally oblivious to the admiring looks from other patrons of the store, finally satisfied that it covered his guns. Ezra beamed at Gaspar as he pressed a substantial wad of cash discreetly into his palm. He clapped the man jovially on the back. "You are a miracle worker, sir!"

Gaspar bowed graciously. Ezra beamed at his elegantly clad colleague. Mr. Larabee was going to be very pleased. Perhaps, it would result in monetary compensation.

---

Larabee Ranch

Chris Larabee yanked viciously at his lopsided tie and swore furiously as he made yet another attempt to tie the damned thing correctly. He had not worn formal dress since Sarah was alive. An avid social climber, Sarah Connelly Larabee had had big plans for her husband. She had been sorely disappointed.

"Fuck!"

Chris swore again and ran a frustrated hand through his blond hair. He had forgotten how much he hated dressing up. Sourly, he wondered if fleecing Ella was worth the pain of formal wear. He sure as hell hoped that Vin was faring better. He smirked at his reflection. Larabee had decreed that as long as he had to suffer through a boring party, then so did Vin. That was one task he had been glad to assign to Ezra. He had been forced to sternly order the mulish Texan to allow Ez to outfit him.

Tanner had argued hotly that he was better suited to recon the outside security, but Larabee had pointed out it was best that that job go to Raphael and Josiah. Rafe, because he was already acquainted with the layout of the house and grounds, and Josiah, to keep him from fixating on some unlucky socialite. Besides, if Chris had to suffer formal dress, then so did Vin. Fair was fair. Vin had finally complied, storming out of the house angrily, but not before a resentful, searing blue glare had promised Chris there would be hell to pay later. No one ordered Tanner around without dire consequences.

There was a deep wolf whistle from behind him and he turned to meet Buck's admiring stare.

"Looking good, Old Dog!"

"Not so bad yourself, Buck."

Larabee replied absently, glancing at Buck's darkly handsome reflection. He swore as he managed yet another lopsided bow.

Buck chuckled and stepped forward. "Let me give ya a hand with that old pard. Lift your chin."

Chris stood still obediently, and let his friend expertly knot the black tie. Larabee was exquisite in formal wear, tall and sleekly elegant with his wheat blond hair gleaming. The subtle scent of his Lagerfield cologne made Buck's mouth water.

Buck finished, then ran a gentle knuckle down the side of Larabee's smoothly shaven face. Looking hungrily into Chris's eyes he murmured. "Been a long time since I seen you clean shaved. I think it was at your wedding. You do that to surprise Vin?"

Annoyed, Chris caught Buck's hand and pushed it from his face. He met his oldest friend's eyes squarely. "Yeah, Buck, I did. That's something you need to get used to." More gently, he added, "We'll always be friends, Buck, but we got bad history as well as good."

Wilmington huffed a resigned breath, wincing at the memory of his and Sarah's betrayal of Chris's trust, and stepped reluctantly back. Chris was never going to forgive him for that affair. He folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb, watching as Chris ran a brush quickly over his mussed hair, watching Buck's reflection warily in the mirror as he did. He decided to change the subject. "You gonna ride in the limo with the girls and me?"

"Nope. Gonna ride my bike. Hope to hell this is worth the trouble," Chris grumbled as he slid on his jacket, then reached for his leather duster.

Buck's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Reckon it will be worth it just to see if Ez can fit a Texas Hellcat into a tux!"

"I don't know, Buck. That boy was plenty mad when he left here."

Buck chuckled and slapped Larabee jovially on the back.

"What you want to bet that Junior wears his boots in?"

Chris gave a derisive snort. "That's not a bet Buck. That's a given."

They headed amiably down the hall, Buck's long arm draped affectionately over Chris's shoulders. He needled Larabee as they went. "You buy Ella a nice birthday present?"

"Hell, no!"

"Guess she just figures you're her present, anyway."

"Aw, shit. It's bad enough that I have to make nice with her," Chris grumbled.

The damned woman was in for a shock. He wasn't about to fuck her, just to give Ez and Buck a chance to make money. Besides, Vin would cheerfully shoot him if he did. Feeling much put upon, he sourly followed his oldest friend out the door. Maybe he would just drag Vin home early. He had a feeling the claustrophobic young Texan would be ready to bolt after only an hour or so of polite company anyway.

---

Rivera Ranchero, Red Rock Butte

Ella Gaines had seldom been as confused as she was tonight. It should have been a triumph. Her carefully planned social gathering was a resounding success. The party glittered with prominent people, the catering had been impeccable, the service flawless. They were all having a lovely time, talking, laughing, and dancing. Several influential politicians were present and having a splendid time. Ella's party promised to be an event of the season, guaranteeing her high status among the wealthiest citizens of New Mexico.

She had been delighted when Mary Travis had arrived on the arm of a wealthy rancher, Gerard Whitman. She had been downright ecstatic when Chris arrived alone, and barely acknowledged the Travis woman's presence, much less to seek her out. Her triumphant attempt to claim her rightful place on his arm, however, had been stymied. To her intense frustration, Christopher Adam Larabee continued to rebuff her every attempt at seduction.

He had been polite, chatting with her for a while before abandoning her to circulate. He had yet to ask her to dance. Baffled frustration held under tight rein, Ella watched him closely, convinced now that she had been mistaken in thinking the Travis woman the object of his affections. He was obviously waiting for someone.

Every time Ella's houseman announced a new arrival, Larabee's searching green gaze swept over to the door, and even as he moved around the room, his eyes restlessly returned to the entrance hall. She was convinced now that he was waiting for the mysterious woman he was so foolishly enamored with. Irritated, she sipped her champagne and watched the handsome blond as he chatted with Nathan and Dr. Rain Jackson.

Chris Larabee had never been so fucking bored in his life. With the exception of his people, the house was full of pompous politicians and airhead socialites. His efforts to avoid Ella had finally paid off, and she was leaving him alone for the moment. Hell, he had had to practically pry her off his arm earlier before he could go and take a piss. It was with relief that he met with Nathan and Rain for an update.

Rain's beautiful brown eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement as she took in Larabee's increasingly frazzled appearance. She and Nathan had snickered together earlier over his almost comical attempts to avoid Ella's clutches. The lean alpha of the Dark Angels had been surprisingly patient with the besotted woman, but Rain sensed that that was about to end. She tugged gently at his sleeve and winked up at him. "Dance with me. I can't pry Nathan out of the buffet table." She ordered, shooting her husband a fond look of exasperation.

He would have protested, but his mouth was full. He waved her gallantly away, instead. Laughing, Chris swept her off, jeering good naturedly at Jackson as he did. He smiled fondly down at her. She was especially pretty tonight. Her dark ringlets were swept elegantly up and pinned with tiny, jeweled butterflies, and her clinging, gold tissue silk gown displayed her slender figure.

They danced easily together, heads close as they exchanged information. Buck lounged elegantly against the French doors flirting with Eveline Travis. Ebony was corralled in a corner by a smitten Guy Royal. Standing six feet in her stockinged feet, she resembled a modern Nefertiti. Her tight, translucent white linen dress displayed rich dark skin, and her elegant African profile was alert and amused as she allowed Royal to maneuver her exactly where she wished to be. It wouldn't be long before she would allow him to escort her to a secluded spot watched over by one of Buck's cameras.

The petite, vivacious Chantal was a fast worker, and had already bagged Sikes on camera partaking of cocaine party favors. Mission accomplished, she was working on getting him drunk as fast as possible, so she could ditch him and have some fun. JD had vanished into Ella's study for an intimate moment with her computer. From his position, Buck was able to ensure that no one could wander down the hall and take the kid by surprise.

"So far, so good. Sikes is already in the bag, Royal is about take the bait," Rain murmured. She nodded towards the door as JD appeared, looking flushed and very pleased with himself. "And JD is finished already."

"So, basically all we need is for Ez to take his walkabout?" Chris was pleased. He liked it when well crafted plans worked exactly according to schedule. It also meant he would be able to escape this interminable party earlier than planned. He frowned. "Ezra is late, as usual."

Rain chuckled softly."You can't blame him this time Chris. Not after that herculean task you assigned him!"

Chris grinned ruefully. He knew what a handful his Texas Wildcat could be. "I guess I'll have to give Ez a bonus for that alone."

Laughing together, they returned to the buffet table. Nathan had munched his way through the crab puffs and had started on a round of tiny meatballs supplemented with guacamole chips. Rain shook her head and pinched him surreptitiously.

"Ouch!"

"Pig!"

"What? I'm hungry!" he protested, popping one last meatball into his mouth as she dragged him onto the dance floor. Chris neatly relieved him of his full plate of goodies as he passed, ignoring his muffled protest, and began to help himself. He grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray, and prepared to settle in for some quality snacking. He was doomed for disappointment. Ella snagged him before he could find a quiet corner, and slid her arm possessively through his. "There you are! You haven't asked me to dance yet, and it IS my birthday." She purred, beaming up at him.

He couldn't help but think that she must have based the design of her dress on that of an old fashioned saloon girl. Black and heavily beaded, the low cut decolletage was trimmed with black feathers, and the tight skirt split nearly to her hip. She wore a heavy, musky perfume that was giving him a headache, and enough flashy, diamond jewelry to blind a man.

Resigned to his fate, he set his purloined plate and drink down, and escorted her onto the dance floor. Over her head, he rolled his eyes at Buck's mischievous wink and waggling brows. He groaned silently when she signaled for a slow, romantic dance and pressed her barely covered breasts blatantly against his chest as she snuggled close. Sighing, he moved mechanically into the steps of the dance.

Ezra beamed encouragingly at his protegee as they climbed out of his BMW. Vin was nervously fiddling with the sapphire cufflinks Ezra had loaned him for the evening. Their fearless sharpshooter was in fact scared shitless. Not only was he wearing fancy dress for the first time in his young life, but now he was expected to actually socialize with rich folks at a fancy party where the only souls he knew were Chris and the boys. He was terrified of making a total ass out of himself, and of embarrassing Larabee.

Standish kept a firm hand at the small of Vin's back as he propelled the younger man up the front walk towards the entrance. Although he was speaking soothingly to the terrified young Texan, it was probable that Vin hadn't heard a word he said. Tanner looked as though he were being taken before a firing squad instead of to a party.

It amazed him that one of the deadliest men he knew was so terribly shy when it came to meeting a few harmless strangers. Perhaps it had something to do with Vin's claustrophobia, and his childhood. Wide blue eyes turned to his, and Vin halted on the top step, grabbing Ezra by the sleeve. "Reckon I should wait outside, Ez?"

Soft heart touched by the naked plea in Vin's soft drawl, Ezra slipped an encouraging arm over Vin's stiff shoulders. "Courage, Mr. Tanner! Ah imagine Mr. Larabee is ripe for rescue from our amorous widow about now! Ah will need you to watch mah back when Ah investigate the safe, as Ah expect Mr. Wilmington has already been distracted by the charms of a nubile young lady. Have Ah told you how splendid you look tonight? We should have a portrait taken..." Chattering inanely to distract Vin, he gently propelled him on.

Chris sighed with relief when the dance finally ended. He escorted Ella off the floor and was profoundly grateful when Judge Travis claimed her for the next dance. She watched him wistfully as she was led away, but he was oblivious. Returning to reclaim his stolen hors d'oeuvres, he found Nathan cheerfully devouring them. Damn. Deciding on whisky instead, he headed for the bar. Hell, he deserved a shot. Or two.

Ella nodded politely at Judge Travis's compliments on the party, hungry gaze riveted on Larabee over the man's shoulder as they danced. She was riding an emotional rollercoaster. She couldn't fathom why Chris stubbornly refused to claim what was rightfully his. They were meant to be together. Why was he resisting? She frowned in puzzlement.

After the dance, the Judge introduced her to his wife and daughter-in-law. Ella spoke genially to Evie Travis, and watched as the Judge gallantly led his wife onto the dance floor. She turned reluctantly to Mary, bristling at the blonde's half hidden, knowing smirk as she sipped at her champagne. It was a case of instant mutual dislike. Mary's simple, white Grecian style dress was a cool contrast to Ella's elaborate beaded gown. She wore her platinum blonde hair up in a sleek chignon, her jewelry simple diamond studs in her ears and a diamond solitaire necklace. The women were a study in contrasts. Elegant old money versus nouveau rich.

"Mrs. Travis."

"Mrs. Gaines."

"Whatever do you find so amusing, Mrs. Travis?"

Mary arched a brow and pointedly looked over to where Chris Larabee lounged at the bar. She took another sip from her glass, and gave Ella another secret smile. "I believe you're about to find out, Mrs. Gaines." Mary gave her a dazzling smile and glided off towards a waiting Gerard Whitman. She almost felt sorry for the Gaines woman.

Puzzled, Ella stared after her for a moment, then strode towards Chris, a wide, determined smile on her face. She was intercepted by an inebriated Bob Sikes, who grabbed her arm and started babbling boozily into her face. Repulsed, she looked deliberately at Larabee, in an imperious demand for rescue.

To her immense shock, he ignored her. He didn't even seem to see her predicament. He was looking straight past her, a wide, sexy welcoming smile on his handsome face. The first such smile she had ever seen him wear, and it was NOT directed at her. It was the unmistakable look of a man catching sight of his lover. Stricken, she pivoted slowly to see whom Larabee was staring at with such open hunger, only to be brushed smoothly aside as he moved swiftly past her in a beeline towards the door.

Chris had just raised his whisky glass for a sip, when he caught sight of Ez and Vin's entrance. He blinked, stared, and blinked again, feeling a wide, foolish grin cross his face. Goddamn. Where was his scruffy, tangle haired Texan? This sexy, elegant creature was something entirely new. He scowled when he noticed the hungry, predatory looks aimed at HIS Texan from a gaggle of nearby socialites, and moved swiftly to intercept. Mine.

"Ez." He nodded absently in Standish's direction, his entire focus on the man standing shyly beside him. Vin raised relieved blue eyes to Larabee's face, his crooked smile blossoming.

"Hey, Cowboy." He greeted Chris softly, his eyes widening in appreciation at the sight of Larabee's newly clean cut face. He nodded at the glass Chris still held, unnerved a little by Larabee's stare. "That for me?"

Chris handed it to him absently. He would have handed him the moon, if he had it. His eyes were hungrily mapping that beautiful, square jawed face, roaming over the lithe body, admiring Vin's unique attire. He raised a fond hand and tweaked a determined strand of unruly, sun bleached silk that was already escaping its tie. He inhaled the familiar, clean scent of cedar, and his wide mouth quirked into a tender smile. His untamed Texan was still in there. Vin blushed hotly under his admiring scrutiny. Chris wanted nothing more in that moment then to eat him alive.

Ezra had given up on attempting to speak to Mr. Larabee, huffed in exasperation, and moved on into the foyer. He noticed Ella's shell shocked gaze after Larabee, and moved quickly to greet and hopefully distract the woman as he gallantly rescued her from the grasp of the drunken congressman. Trust Mr. Larabee to be about as discreet as a heat seeking missile!

Over Ella's shoulder, he caught Buck's minute hand signals. A hidden thumbs up, a circle, and an index finger flicked in his direction was all it took to inform Ezra that the only major remaining task of the evening was his inspection of the safe.

He nodded his understanding and indicated the stunned woman he was attempting to distract with an arched brow. Buck nodded and moved easily to take over. He beamed jovially down at the petite brunette and kissed her hand, drawing her smoothly out on the dance floor. His broad shoulders effectively blocked Larabee from her view as he slid a big arm around her waist and drew her close.

"Why, Ella, you haven't danced with me all night, darlin'. Old Buck is starting to feel neglected..." he boomed down into her dazed face as he skillfully maneuvered her away, leaving Standish with a clear path to the study.

Nathan had moved discreetly to the doorway to serve as the first lookout and JD strolled down the hall to station himself near the study door, plate of snacks firmly in his grasp, apparently an innocent teenager escaping adult scrutiny, intent on feeding his face. Standish took one leisurely survey of the room, to insure he was unobserved, smoothed his lapels, then meandered down the hall towards the study.

Rain stepped casually back through the French doors that led into the courtyard. She nodded at Nathan, indicating that Raphael and Josiah had finished reconning the perimeter. The night's work was nearly finished. Soon they could relax and really enjoy the party. Her full lips quirked at the sight of Chris hovering possessively by Vin, warning off any would be poachers with a cold glare. Odds where, Larabee would be hustling Vin out the door before the hour was gone, Ella be damned.

Ella was numb with shock and a growing rage. This could not be happening. NO! How dare he! How dare he set her aside for a ... man. Her jealous, dark eyes focused coldly on Vin. It was all HIS fault, he had stolen her beloved Chris. Deluded and bewitched him. It was up to her to rescue Chris, and restore him to his rightful place at her side.

She allowed her escort to propel her around the dance floor, oblivious to his good-natured blather. Smiling slowly she relaxed and moved easily with the music as she felt a familiar, peaceful calm descend. Everything would be all right now. She knew what to do. She knew who she had to kill. Harper and his crew were due in tomorrow. Everything would be taken care of.

---

Raphael Cordova de Martinez ghosted silently along the inner garden wall. From this angle, he had a clear view of most of the courtyard and the party. Dressed entirely in matte black, from the top of his sleek dark head to the low heels of his boots, he was nearly invisible. Josiah had already checked in, then headed for home. Raphael lingered after his whispered consultation with Rain Jackson. He was stalking larger prey tonight. As patiently as a leopard, he crouched in the shadow of an urn and waited.

Buck and Ezra stood on the terrace to catch a breath of fresh air. They were well pleased. The evening's business was done, and everyone could relax a bit. A bored JD had headed for home a quarter hour earlier. Ebony and Chantal were leisurely stalking unwary, wealthy cattlemen. Buck had given them leave to enjoy themselves for the rest of the evening. Nathan and Rain were slow dancing happily together.

Buck and Ezra were currently placing bets on how soon Chris would drag Vin off into a corner, and molest him. The sharpshooter had inadvertently led their leader a merry chase tonight. Vin had proved an irresistable lure for the ladies. They all seemed to want a dance with the handsome, shy young man.

Larabee was currently standing at the bar glaring daggers at the back of a statuesque blonde socialite's head. She had had the nerve to cut in on his conversation with Vin, and then imperiously dragged the young man off for a dance. Now she was not so discreetly slipping her card into his vest pocket.

"Ah am quite proud. Mr. Tanner has mingled quite well." Ezra beamed fondly at his unlikely Cinderella.

Buck snorted and took a gulp of scotch. "Hell, Ezra, the boy ain't had a chance to get nervous. The ladies haven't given him a moment to catch his breath since he got here, line started forming the minute he came in the damned door. Chris is about to blow a gasket."

"Indeed, Mr. Wilmington. Ah believe you owe me a small sum of money." Standish watched with immense satisfaction as Mr. Larabee firmly cut in on the startled blonde gave her a sharkish grin and with a firm arm around Vin's shoulders, escorted him off the dance floor, and out the door into the side garden.

"Ah, hell. I was sure Chris had more willpower than that! Worse than newlyweds!" Disgruntled, Buck dug out his wallet and handed Standish half the contents.

Ezra gave him a gold-toothed grin and happily slipped the fat wad of cash into his inner pocket. He picked an imaginary bit of lint off an immaculate cuff, and prepared to take his leave. "Ah do believe ah shall bid our charming hostess adieu. Mothah is due to phone me at midnight for a progress report. Ah also want to examine the financial information that young Mr. Dunne so efficiently procured tonight."

"Later, Ez." Buck slapped him on the back and thoughtfully watched him go. He took another sip from his glass and leaned back against the terrace rail. It still gave him a pang to watch Chris and Vin together. He had hoped that somehow the two would occasionally be open for three, but it looked like it wasn't going to be. Larabee and Tanner were loners that had somehow mated for life. Larabee was fiercely possessive. Tanner almost pathologically shy. They were damaged halves of a whole, complete unto themselves.

He supposed he should be glad he was still counted Chris's closest confidant. At least Vin hadn't shot him yet, and Chris had only threatened to kill him once. He folded his arms broodingly and huffed a breath, exasperated at himself. Chris would always be a part of his life, closer than any brother. Truth was, he envied Chris and Vin their closeness, and felt more than a bit left out and lonely. He turned rueful eyes on the party, not really in the mood to seek out feminine company.

A low whistle brought his head up and around, and he caught a glimpse of a dark figure standing at the end of the long terrace, half hidden in shadow. Raphael. He lifted a hand and beckoned, melting back in the shadows. Intrigued, Buck set his glass down on the rail and strolled casually down the terrace, checking to insure if he was unobserved. The lithe figure remained just ahead, and he quickly followed.

---

Chris tasted of expensive bourbon tonight, Vin noted vaguely, as the tall blond pressed him bodily up against the interior wall of the gazebo. His hungry mouth seemingly intent on eating him alive, while big, hard hands worked at uncovering skin. The heady scent of the heirloom roses and honeysuckle vines covering the garden structure mingled with Chris's cologne and coupled with the fresh night air to make Vin nearly dizzy with desire.

Larabee nipped his way across the smooth, square jaw to a succulent earlobe, which he suckled wetly. Vin moaned and bucked helplessly in response, humping against the hard muscled thigh wedging his legs apart. He managed to grab the roaming hands that were about to rip his shirt and vest open, and shove them away.

"Dammit, Lar'bee!"

"Mmm,mmh?"

"Chris!"

Larabee reluctantly lifted his hungry mouth from the love bite he was working on beneath Vin's jaw. He surveyed his handiwork critically. Nope. Needed a bit more suction. He latched on again, making Vin yelp and squirm delightfully. Strong hands caught his head and pried him off. Irritated, he scowled down into a flushed, rosy face.

"What? I'm working here!"

"Stop messin' with my outfit, Cowboy. Went to a heap of trouble with the damned thing, an' I don't want it ripped. 'Sides, Ez said I look splendid."

Vin shoved him back a pace, and began ostentatiously to smooth his mussed clothing. Bright blue eyes slanted Chris a teasing, sideways look, checking his reaction. Yep, there was that jealous Larabee glare, right on cue. Tanner deliberately fueled the fire. He licked his wet, swollen lips slowly and deliberately and gave Larabee an arch look as he pretended to adjust his cufflinks. "That was downright rude, cuttin' in on Miss Courtney like that. Her bein' so nice to me and all."

Chris growled, and folded his arms over his broad chest. He scowled down at his ornery, sexy tease of a partner. "Splendid, huh? Miss Courtney? Nice? Is that why she slipped you her card?"

He reached out a big hand, dipped into Tanner's pocket, and plucked out not one but six different scented business cards. Without even glancing at them, he tossed them back over his shoulder. He gave the younger man an evil smirk and advanced deliberately in his space, tall frame crowding him back farther under the greenery covered roof of the gazebo.

"You happen to mention to Miss Courtney that you're spoken for, Tanner?" He backed Vin up against the far wall and placed big hands on either side of his head, effectively trapping him. Leaning in so close that Vin could feel the warmth of his breath inches from his mouth, he murmured softly, "You happen to mention that you belong to me?"

Vin swallowed hard as he stared into his lover's hot eyes. That moss green gaze pinned him as securely as a snake would a mouse. He could feel the strength and heat of Chris's body, smell the scent of his musk mingling deliciously with his cologne. It made him shiver, and it made him so hard he hurt. From now on, whenever he caught the scent of roses and honeysuckle he would think of this night.

"You're looking really fine tonight, Cowboy." Chris lightly, slowly brushed Vin's cheek with his newly smooth one. He deliberately courted Vin with soft words and touches. "Makes me want to eat you alive," he whispered into the rosy shell of a tender ear as he gently gripped the lobe between his teeth. "So pretty. So sexy, so..."

"Ain't purty...aah!"

Larabee nuzzled lightly along his lover's jawline, lips touching as lightly as butterfly wings. He rubbed his own smooth cheek against Vin's, and smiled secretly when he felt the younger man shiver, as he nuzzled down his neck. He stopped, his lips curved against the pounding pulse in Vin's throat, just breathing his clean scent, feeling the heat of his skin, his heartbeat. He spoke quietly, one deliberate word before he dug cruel, sharp teeth into the tender skin. "Mine."

Larabee cupped the back of Vin's head with one big hand and wrapped his arm around the trim waist as he hauled his lover close, intent on making his claim. He bit the pulse in Vin's throat and sucked hard, bruising the delicate skin. There would be toothmarks and dark bruising, visibly marking Vin as his. Tanner moaned brokenly, arched against him, hands clawing his broad shoulders helplessly. Chris lazily lifted his head, licking his lips lightly, tasting the sweet copper tang of blood.

"I'm gonna suck you dry, Cowboy."

Big hands closed hard around Vin's waist as he lifted and set the dazed younger man up on the wrought iron table in the gazebo. His pants were efficiently opened and yanked down around his ankles, along with his silk boxers, freeing his rosy, weeping erection to jut stiffly up into the cool night air. Larabee raised burning eyes on his lover's face, as he bent to lazily lap once at his cock head. He blew a hot breath along the pulsing organ, as hard, calloused hands spread Vin's thighs wide. He lifted his head and gave Vin a wicked, white smile. "Then after I drain you dry, I'm gonna bend you over this table and fuck you into next week."

He bent his blond head and went to work, deep-throating Tanner in one swoop. Vin arched and reeled back in a rictus of pleasure, one hand tangled in Larabee's hair, the other jammed into his own mouth to muffle his scream. He bucked helplessly into Chris's hot mouth, noting hazily as he did that the moon was full and shining through the leaf and blossom tangled roof.

It sure as hell had brought out the beast tonight!

Raphael took one last, searching look around the small side courtyard, then opened the back door of the big limo parked there.

Wordlessly, he motioned Buck inside. Just as Wilmington bent his lanky frame to slide in and opened his mouth to ask a question, a hand clamped on his shoulder and shoved, hard. Sprawling awkwardly, on his back, long legs akimbo on the sleek leather seat, Buck yelped in outrage, only to be efficiently silenced by a hot tongue in his mouth, and a busy hand in his pants. Raphael had pounced, and pressed Buck back in the seat using all his body weight and the added advantage of the element of surprise.

Buck Wilmington was, above all a practical man. If a lean, handsome, hard-muscled Latino stud was going to go macho and jump his ass, who was he to question his good fortune? His straining, diamond hard prick certainly wasn't objecting to the rough handling it was receiving. It took the big man all of three seconds to get with the program and start responding enthusiastically, kissing back hungrily and groping for skin. Lord, it had been too damned long since Buck Wilmington had had a hard cock up his ass!

Raphael growled throatily with pleasure as Buck lustily sucked at his throat, big hands working busily on freeing Rafe's thick cock from his tight black pants. He had always suspected the big man would be lusty in bed, now he was finally getting a taste for himself. Buck pawed at Rafe's clothes, seeking contact with hot, sleek skin. He wanted this man in him NOW.

Rafe grabbed Buck's fine linen shirt in both hands and tore it open from throat to crotch. He yanked Wilmington's dress pants open and dove in to bite at small brown nipples on the furred chest, while one hard hand furiously jerked Buck's cock. Buck threw back his head and howled with pleasure. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered vaguely how sound proof limos actually were...

Hector Ramirez slipped around the side door of the garage for a quick piss. Chauffeuring rich gringos could be a pain, but it paid fairly well. At least he could play dice with his compadres while he waited for his patron to finish partying. He finished with a sigh and zipped up. A muffled thump, followed by a groan caught his attention, and, curious, he frowned across the courtyard at the oversized stretch limo parked there. A broad grin split his dark face. Si, it was definitely rocking! Someone was enjoying the party!

---

Ella Gaines stood silently at the corner of the greenhouse. From this angle, with the bright moon, she had a clear view of the men in the ornate, rose entangled gazebo. She shivered in a mixture of rage and desire at the soft, passionate sounds of lovemaking that resonated from within. Mouth open, nails dug deep in her palms, she panted silently, fighting her arousal. That should be her!

She couldn't tear her eyes from the tall, strong body that so ruthlessly bent the slighter one to his will. The moonlight silvered Chris Larabee's blond hair, limed his skin, made his white shirt glow. It turned him into a feral, fey creature of light and shadow. He had, as promised, bent Vin over the table and mounted him. Now, he rode his young lover hard, determined to imprint his ownership heart deep.

Fingers entwined with Vin's he growled deep in his throat and gave one final thrust as hard and deep as he could, feeling his partner convulse, and buck into his own climax, even as he did. He let his weight relax on the smaller man, deliberately pinning him to the table. His nose buried in silky hair, he lazily mouthed the tender nape of his neck, a subtle reminder of his dominance. Vin moaned softly beneath him, limp with release.

Larabee reluctantly eased back, still joined with Vin, although he felt the wet heat of his semen ease the tight seal between them. He sagged slowly back on the iron bench as he slipped free, Vin cradled in his lap, holding his young lover close. Vin's head lolled back on Chris's broad shoulder, his eyes shut as he panted softly, trying to catch his breath. Larabee tenderly nuzzled a hot, flushed cheek, planting a soft kiss there as his own breathing began to even out. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scents of sex and cedar and pure essence of Vin. Mine. This is mine.

"Damn, Chris..." Tanner's voice was raspy, breathless, hoarse with sex and a touch of awe.

Larabee smirked proudly against a silky, tousled head. "I know, Cowboy, I know."

He wrapped his arms around Vin and held him tight. They sat quietly, heads together, cheek to cheek, breath mingling, slowly coming down from their sexual high.

Engrossed with each other, neither noticed the furious woman lurking in the shadows. Finally, they began to untangle themselves and rearrange their clothing. By the time they exited the gazebo and headed for the drive and Chris's bike, Ella had vanished.

Judge Travis escorted his wife into the side courtyard. The party had been quite enjoyable, although he had been rather amazed to find it had included bikers as well as cattlemen and politicians. He had danced with Rain Jackson, and found her to be charming.

There were several limos parked in this particular courtyard. He frowned; they all looked alike to him. Was this one theirs? He opened a rear door at random, only to hastily shut it again. He spoke dryly to a flustered, pink cheeked Eveline. "I believe this one is occupied, dear."

Inside the car, the two half naked, cum splattered men sniggered happily together as they lazily untangled long, hairy limbs and groped for lost items of clothing. Buck Wilmington had a wide, stupid, sated grin on his face. It wasn't every night he was not only spectacularly fucked but got to moon a judge as well. He beamed up into Raphael's flushed, handsome face, then wrapped a big hand around the back of his new lover's head and pulled him down for another round. Hell, the night was young.

---

The big Harley rumbled up to the stoplight. It had rained briefly in Four Corners, and the streets were still slick with water, the night air fresh and cool against their faces. Vin yawned sleepily, snug against Chris's broad leather clad back. He was very relaxed and half asleep, chin resting on Larabee's shoulder, arms clasped loosely around his waist. Both men were still mellow with afterglow.

Chris turned his head and absently nuzzled Vin's cheek. He smiled as he felt a tendril of long hair catch on his mouth and tickle his nose. Tanner's rebellious mane was busily working itself free from its tie, whipping lazily over his shoulders.

Their moment of quiet contentment was suddenly rudely shattered, as a jacked up Mustang convertible screeched noisily to a stop beside them.

Four burly, drunken, college age men peered over at the bike. Taking in the riders' elegant evening wear and their close body contact on the bike, they whooped and jeered. "Hey! Look, faggots!"

The driver, a burly, redheaded football player type, leered nastily over at Vin. He leaned over his door and made lewd slurping noises, while his buddies egged him on. "Hey sweet thang. You sure are pretty. You wanna go for a ride with some real men?"

His friends thought this funny, and howled their appreciation at his wit. Vin and Chris ignored them. They had better things to do then deal with idiots this late at night. The light changed and they moved on, only to be caught a few blocks up at the next light. The Mustang pulled up, its occupants growing bolder. "Hey boys, feel up to a old fashioned Saturday night queerstomping?"

The youths yowled their agreement. Vin snorted as he felt Larabee's body tense in front of him. These assholes had no clue. Chris was one of those hardy individuals who regarded barroom brawling as a refreshing hobby. It wouldn't take much more before he decided to crack a few heads.

"Yeah, maybe we'll let the pretty one suck us off, if he asks nice," the acne scarred twerp seated behind the driver piped up excitedly. The rest chortled in agreement.

Vin sighed. Nope. No clue at all.

Chris gave a wordless snarl and pulled the big bike over to the curb. The men whooped and began to pile out of the car. Vin sighed again and slid off to lean patiently against the Harley, arms crossed as he waited. This probably wouldn't take long. Chris arched a blond brow at him.

"You gonna just stand there?"

"Yep. Promised Ez I wouldn't muss up the suit. Besides..." Vin answered virtuously, carefully peeling a stray hair off his lapel.

Larebee gave a much put upon sigh. "I remember, he said you looked splendid."

Vin beamed at him, and gave him a saucy wink. Chris snorted, slid his duster off, tossed it to him, and turned to wade into the fight.

As predicted, it didn't take long. Five minutes later two of the four were lying face down, groaning, in their own personal pools of vomit, while Chris gleefully drove a knee into the groin of the third. The fourth man, realizing he was outclassed, reached sneakily over the side of the Mustang into the floorboard and pulled out a tire iron. He angled to get around to Larabee's vulnerable back.

He had just drawn his arm back to deliver a vicious blow to the back of Chris's head when the unmistakable loud click of a hammer being cocked froze him in his tracks. "Nnnh Unnh."

Turning slowly he found himself staring into the cold blue eyes of a predator. The pretty one had the barrel of a Colt .45 leveled dead center between his eyes. He swallowed hard, caught like a rabbit in that cold gaze. Vin waggled his gun in an unmistakable go away gesture. The sweating youth dropped the tire iron with a clang, and ran like hell.

Chris dropped his gagging, semi-conscious prey and dusted his hands off, before straightening his lapels. He had whirled around at the sound of Vin's gun cocking, but saw that he had things under control. Vin tucked his gun away in his shoulder rig and grinned at him cockily. "Hey Cowboy. You 'bout ready to go home, or ya want ta kick 'em in the head a time or two 'fore you go?"

Chris gave a snort of laughter at the sheer feeling for this man that welled up inside him. He crossed to Vin in two quick strides. The adrenaline was flowing and he felt as horny as a teenager. Eye to eye with his lover he gave a happy, throaty purr, mouth lightly brushing Vin's.

"Splendid, huh?"

---

Larabee Ranch, The Following Morning

Larabee frowned at the insistent bleat in his ear. Finally, he cracked a baleful green eye open to glare at the bedside table. Goddamned cellphone. Whoever invented the damned things should be shot. The tousled head pillowed on his shoulder snuffled sleepily and burrowed closer. A glance at the digital clock caused his scowl to deepen. Hell, it was barely eight A.M. He snaked a long arm out resentfully, and snarled, "This better be good."

"Ah, good morning Mr. Larabee! Ah trust you are in good health this fine morning?"

"Ezra?" Chris squinted at the phone, then the clock, in disbelief. Had the sanctified dead risen from their graves?

A warm chuckle sounded in his ear. "Indeed, Mr. Larabee. Ah have not yet been to bed. Ah have urgent news. We have a buyer for the late Mr. Delgado's purloined arms shipment, however, we must move post haste."

Larabee, abruptly wide awake, listened as Standish explained. Apparently, their potential buyer was nervous and in a hurry. He absently stroked the sleek golden brown skin of Vin's shoulder. Vin sighed, turned, and stropped his whiskered jaw against a small brown aureole. The tingle went straight to Chris's groin. He shifted long legs to ease the pressure.

"Who's the buyer? Miguel Sanduval?"

Larabee felt an amused smirk spread across his face. He snickered meanly. "Guess that war with the Alvarez family has heated up a mite."

The idea of selling Diego's stolen guns to the rival of the man who had tried to kill him amused him. "Poetic justice? Yeah..."

He stretched lazily as Ez prattled on, then clamped his mouth shut abruptly as a hot, wet tongue sleepily laved his nipple. Bright blue eyes twinkled up at him as Vin latched on to the tiny bud and began to suckle lazily. Larabee's green eyes began to glaze. He blinked and fought to maintain his composure. "Where do they want to meet? Oh, yeah..."

He curled his fingers in the curly chestnut mane and tugged hard to peel Tanner off his tingling tit. Vin released the tiny, throbbing bud with a wet slurp that curled Chris's toes. Slanting a mischievous gaze up at Chris's face, laughing blue eyes crinkled at the corners, he burrowed under the sheet, tousled head rooting its way south. Hard, calloused hands spread Chris's muscular thighs wide. Larabee gasped, one big hand knotting into the covers.

"Mr. Larabee, are you there?"

"Oh yeah...damn."

He concentrated hard, scowling, trying to ignore the delicious sensations between his legs. Vin was lazily rubbing his silky hair against Larabee's erect cock, even as he nibbled the sensitive, twitching skin of Chris's belly. Larabee's eyes nearly crossed when a hot, wet tongue abruptly curled around his swollen cock head and...slurped.

"Shit!"

There was an amused chuckle in his ear at his surprised croak. "Mr. Larabee, shall we rendezvous at the Saloon, ahem, perhaps in an hour?"

"Oh, hell yeah!"

The hapless cellphone sailed across the room to smash into the wall.

Vin raised his head from a wide-splayed, furry, golden thigh, licked his lips, and beamed up at Larabee. "Mornin', Cowboy."

Chris croaked a feeble reply and weakly flapped an arm in Vin's general direction. He squinted blearily at the cobwebbed ceiling. Funny, that smudge looked just like Buck's moustache...Where the hell did Tanner get his energy? There was an irritated meow from beside the bed. He turned a dazed head to meet Miss Lily's bright eyes. Her tail switched impatiently. Breakfast was late.

"Not my fault."

Larabee croaked at the testy feline. Vin chuckled, sat up, and slapped Chris's thigh. "Better get a move on, Cowboy. Time's 'a wastin'."

The young man bounced out of bed and headed down the hall. Miss Lily followed, fluffy tail held high. Finally! Someone was getting with the program. Larabee groaned. Lord, no one should be that damned perky in the morning!

---

The Saloon, The Parking Lot, 9:30 A.M.

Buck chuckled as Chris and Vin pulled their bikes into the lot a half hour late. An unshaven, sour-faced Chris suffered from a severe case of bedhead and wore his worn black leathers with his darkest shades. All that was missing was the hangover. Vin was bright-eyed and alert, as always in the mornings. Ezra stood nearby, also sporting dark sunglasses and clutching an extra large black coffee as he leaned sleepily against a flashy, souped up Corvette.

Raphael, Josiah, JD, and Nathan slowly emerged from the Saloon. All four were bleary eyed and caffeine deprived. JD yawned, setting off a chain reaction down the line of bikers. Chris gave them a humorless smile. "Alright. We ready? Who's driving the truck?"

Raphael raised a hand, and stepped forward. Larabee tossed him the keys of the nondescript panel truck. The meet was to take place three hours south, in a small town near the Mexican border. If things went smoothly, they would be back home before dark. Chris turned to Vin and clasped his forearm. "See you tonight, pard. Say Hey to Charlie and Irene for me."

Vin studied him gravely, dark blue eyes intent on his face.

"You sure ya don't want me ta ride along, Chris? I kin visit Charlie next week."

"Nah, Cowboy. Got plenty of backup with these yahoos. You don't want to miss Charlie's 65th birthday. Irene would take that damned wooden spoon of hers to your ass. I'll meet you here tonight."

They clasped arms again. Larabee gave him a leer and wink. Vin grinned, shook his head, and rumbled out of the lot. He opened the Magma up, popped the front wheel up, catwalked the big bike, then dropped down and roared off down the highway. Chris shook his head after him fondly. Showoff.

Buck raised a surprised brow. "Vin's not going?"

"It's Charlie's birthday," Chris answered quietly.

Buck nodded in immediate understanding. Charlie Truehorse had been the one bright light in Vin's abysmal childhood. The Native American bounty hunter had had no qualms whatsoever about hauling home a malnourished, scrawny teen that he had rescued off the streets of Houston. A mute, nearly feral Vin had been amazed at the warmth and love the Truehorses had extended to him.

Charlie had taught him to hunt game, both animal and human, to ride, track, and shoot. Irene had taught him herbology, how to gentle horses, and several Native American dialects. They both loved him fiercely. Their only child, a son, had died in the last days of fighting in Vietnam. Vin returned that fierce, unconditional love, watching over the elderly couple, and visiting them as often as possible.

"All right! Mount up. Let's head out." Larabee barked impatiently, and gunned the big, black Harley.

Rafe winked at a grinning Buck and climbed into the truck. Ezra slid into his 'vette, carefully adjusting his precious coffee in the cup holder. The others climbed on their bikes. The band of Dark Angels headed out, the truck and Corvette falling in behind their ranks.

Not one of them had noticed the dark van that had turned out of Blossom's parking lot across the road and followed Tanner.

---

White Horse Mesa, Charlie Truehorse's Trailer, Roughly 2:00 P.M.

Charlie leaned back in his chair under the awning of the trailer and patted his round belly happily. Chocolate birthday cake with raspberry filling was his favorite. A compact, stocky, broad shouldered man, his thick salt and pepper hair shaved in a brush cut, he was starting to spread a bit in his old age. He beamed fondly across the table at his shiye, his son. Vin was working on his third piece of cake, with little sign of slowing down.

Irene shuffled out of the trailer door, carrying another tall glass of milk for her boy. Although she stood only five feet tall, she was almost as wide, and most of it was muscle. She had once picked Vin up after he had taken a bad tumble from a green horse, draped the groggy, semi-conscious teenager over one shoulder, and waddled placidly home--all three miles. When she deigned to speak at all, it was usually in Navajo.

She ran a work roughened hand through Vin's hair and gave his ponytail a sharp, loving tug as she silently set the milk by his hand. Mouth full, he nodded happily up at her in thanks. Charlie reached for the fingerprint smudged polaroid photo on the table. He chuckled at the picture of a frisking Peso, Vin's bandanna in his teeth. "So this is the horse that bit a bad ass biker in the ass!"

He and Vin snickered, both picturing the irate Larabee. Irene's mouth twitched. The Truehorses tolerated the Dark Angel because of Vin, but they were wary of him as well. Larabee's bad rep stood for itself. Still, if Vin cared for the man, then he was considered family, and that was that. Charlie's dark eyes twinkled up at his wife and he patted her ample behind fondly. "That was good cookin', Peaches! Might have put some meat on the boy this time!"

Irene snorted. She had been trying for years to fatten her boy up, to no avail. She poked Charlie's belly sharply instead. He turned wide, wounded eyes up at her. "Now Peaches, I only had two helpings of cake."

She put her hands on her broad hips.

"Okay, it might have been three..." he conceded sulkily. He glared across the table at Vin's snort. "Help me out here, boy."

Vin shook his curly head. "Nope. Ain't arguing with Miz Irene. Don't want no spanking with That Spoon."

The only spanking an astonished young Vin Tanner had ever had, had come from Irene Truehorse's hand and her trusty wooden spoon. She had turned the lanky boy over her knee after he stole and devoured a pie meant as a gift for her sister. It hadn't mattered a bit that he had stood a foot taller than she at the time. She welded That Spoon like a queen's scepter as well as a favored kitchen implement, and both Charlie and Vin had learned to walk softly when she had it at hand.

Charlie huffed, and folded his arms. His pretend sulk vanished though, as he caught sight again of his birthday gift from Vin. He reached over and pulled the antique, ivory handled Bowie knife lovingly out of it's cherrywood case. Charlie and Vin shared a love of fine knives and firearms. It was Charlie who had discovered and nurtured Vin's phenomenal skill as a marksman.

He winked at Vin and made a slashing motion with the wickedly sharp blade. "Could scalp a few palefaces with this."

Irene gave a derisive snort and cast her eyes heavenwards as she gathered up dirty plates. Vin jumped up to help, only to be pinched sharply for his pains. He yelped and sat back down hastily when she wagged a finger at him. He had forgotten that he was an honored guest today. He glared across the table as Charlie sniggered and beamed fondly after her.

"Don't look at me boy. You should know better. Reckon you got room on that fancy bike for all the leftovers she packed up for you?"

Vin gave his foster father his familiar, crooked grin. "Reckon I always got room for Miz Irene's mutton stew and fry bread."

"And cake too, you got to take home some for Larabee. Don't want him gunning for me."

"Reckon yer safe, Charlie, long as ya got Irene watchin' yer back. Chris don't want no part of that spoon."

They laughed softly together as Vin got up and prepared to take his leave. Irene came out of the trailer with several large tupperware containers. She handed them to Vin, then gave him a rib cracking squeeze goodbye. He oofed and bent and dropped a shy kiss on her round cheek in return. She gave his curly ponytail another fond tug, murmured, "Tsiishch'ili," under her breath, and returned silently to the trailer.

Charlie grabbed his walking stick and walked him to his bike. Vin ambling slowly to accomodate his limping gait. Arthritis, and age had finally stopped Charlie's bounty hunting. He had chosen this birthday as his retirement year. He gave his boy a quick, loving hug.

"Don't be a stranger, boy. Bring Chris and the boys next time. It'll give Peaches something to fuss over."

"I will. Take care, Charlie."

"You too, son. Be careful on that machine."

Truehorse eyed the big, red Magma respectfully as Vin tucked his food in the saddlebags, climbed on, and started it up. In the old days, given the opportunity, a younger Charlie would have probably broken his neck on one. He ruefully decided to stick to horses of the four legged variety, and leave the iron horse to Vin. Vin flashed him a smile, lifted a hand, gunned the bike, and was gone, winding down the dirt road into the canyon below.

As he always did, Charlie limped over to the venerable pinon pine growing at the edge of the mesa. It was something of a ritual for him, to watch Vin go, and he enjoyed watching the boy open up his bike once he hit the straight stretch of highway on the canyon floor below. He could hear the purr of the bike's engine on the road as it wound down the mesa.

He waited patiently, sharp black eyes on the curve where Vin would emerge from the shadow of the mesa. What he saw in the next few minutes had him wheeling, and bellowing for Irene in a furious mixture of Zuni, English, and Navajo, as he limped back to the trailer as quickly as his crippled legs would allow. Some sonufabitchin' biligaana bastards had ambushed his boy.

---

Vin had just reached the canyon floor and started to open the big bike up just as he had a thousand times before, when the bright red car suddenly wheeled from concealment behind the huge boulders at the curve, directly into his path. He braked and tried to swerve and lay the big bike down, but it was too late. He skidded, leaving a trail of rubber, and his front wheel struck the front end of the Miata at an angle, throwing him up over the hood. He threw his arms up to shield his head and tried to tuck and roll, but wasn't fast enough.

He had a brief glimpse of Ella Gaines' jeering face as his body struck the windshield, before white hot pain exploded in his arms and head, and momentum threw him over to crash and roll hard onto the blacktop. Additional pain sizzled through his hip and left leg. Dazed and semi-conscious, he fought to keep his senses, to try and stand, but his body refused to obey. He never saw the hard kick aimed at his head from the leader of the men who had emerged from the black van parked in the shadow of the mesa.

Ella Gaines smoothed her silk head scarf, checked her lipstick in the side mirror, and smiled down at the unconscious, battered body. Harper's men bent and grabbed Vin, dragged him across the road, and threw him in the back of the van. They followed, jumping in quickly, and within minutes the two vehicles were on the road, leaving Vin's twisted, smashed bike in the middle of the road. By the time a furious Charlie Truehorse, rifle in hand, reached the edge of the mesa above, they were gone.

---

Deming, New Mexico. Near the Mexican Border, Approx. 2:30P.M.

Chris Larabee leaned against his Harley, handsome face impassive. Inside, he thrummed with tension. He was growing more uneasy with each passing moment, unsure why, and it irritated him. Things were finally winding up. Ezra, with Raphael acting as translator as needed, had concluded the damned deal. Moodily, Larabee watched as Ez politely shook Miguel Sanduval's hand, accepting the hefty briefcase full of cash from the swarthy, nattily dressed Mexican jefe in exchange for the truck load of guns.

An overturned semi on route 25 had delayed their arrival at the abandoned warehouse, spooking their buyer and nearly causing a wary Sanduval to cancel. Fortunately, Ezra P. Standish could talk the devil into investing in harp futures, and he had successfully soothed the man's frazzled nerves.

Miguel Sanduval bade Standish a polite farewell as he tossed the truck keys to one of his men. He cast a covert glance across the warehouse, where the blond leader of the Dark Angels lounged, flanked by his alert, heavily armed men. The man reminded Miguel of a lion surrounded by a particularly lethal pride. Larabee had remained silent, aloof in the background, while Standish and Cordova had efficiently conducted the business at hand.

Miguel had learned as much as possible about this tall, blond gringo in preparation for this important first meet. The man had a formidable reputation on both sides of the border. Sanduval had high hopes of further, profitable alliances with the Dark Angels.

He had nothing but the greatest respect for the man who commanded the firepower that had so easily taken out his rival, General Alvarez, and decimated Benito Delgado's operation. Nervously, he wondered if Larabee's sniper was watching them now. Even inside the warehouse, he felt unsafe. The nape of his neck itched fiercely.

The assassin who had taken out General Alvarez was known simply as El Muerte in Mexico. It was said he moved como la sombra del halcon, like the shadow of a hawk, bringing silent death to his victims. They neither saw, nor sensed his arrival until it was too late. Como un fantasma silenciosa. The shot that had killed Alvarez had been made from a phenomenal distance, and not a trace of the sniper found.

Chris Larabee waited with arms folded, long, leather clad legs stretched out, dressed in his customary black, the heavy Colt in his shoulder rig clearly visible. Buck flanked him on the left, easily cradling a heavy duty riot gun, big body seemingly relaxed, alert blue eyes on Sanduval's burly bodyguards. Nathan was crouched at his right, sleek in black leathers, lazily cleaning already immaculate nails with an extremely sharp knife, dark face impassive behind wrap around shades. Josiah towered moodily at their backs, pensive, pale blue eyes never leaving Sanduval's men as he thoughtfully fingered the cross and fetishs on the heavy chain around his neck. His big .357 Magnum was clearly visible in the cross holster over his broad chest. JD hovered in the doorway as lookout, trying hard to keep still, keeping one nervous eye outside, covering them from ambush from behind.

"Please extend to Senor Larabee my thanks. I hope we shall do business again soon."

Miguel spoke carefully, earnestly, in his best English.

Ezra returned his handshake heartily. "Ah shall do so, sir. It was an honor to do business with you."

Pleased at the Southerner's courtesy, Miguel inclined his head in respectful farewell to Senor Larabee, and took his leave, climbing into his luxurious, bullet proof Mercedes. His men scrambled to follow. Once their vehicles were out of sight, Standish sighed in relief. He beamed at Raphael and carried the case over to Larabee, popping it open to reveal the stacks of bills within.

Larabee cast a disinterested glance at their haul. Buck whistled and rubbed his palms together with childish glee. Standish beamed proudly. Josiah's face split in a toothy grin. Nathan shook his head, well aware that his friend's cut would end up in the Sisters of Mercy's coffers. Raphael kept a vigilant eye out, insuring they were still unobserved, while JD eyed the money hungrily, unconsciously licking his lips.

"Ez, you carry the cash. We'll split it at home. Buck, you know what to do with Vin's and my shares. Let's ride." Chris ordered curtly, not wanting to linger and attract unwanted attention.

"Hell, Chris, let's stop in Las Cruces at the steakhouse. I could eat a horse with the hide still on."

There was a general chorus of agreement with Buck's enthusiastic suggestion. Larabee reluctantly agreed. His men had done a good job, and they had not had time for lunch. His feeling of unease was growing, despite the fact the deal was successfully concluded, and they were practically home free. He turned to mount his bike.

Whooping happily in a release of tension, Buck goosed JD, slapped Ezra on the back, and threw a big arm around Raphael's shoulders. "You ride with me, pard."

He gave the shorter man a companionable squeeze that lingered, beaming down at him. Rafe shook his head, ruefully. How could one refuse such exuberance? Glancing over at Larabee, he saw that the blond was eyeing them thoughtfully, but the man said nothing. They mounted up and pulled out, heading north.

---

Rivera Ranchero, Red Rock Butte, Approx. 3:30P.M.

Vin Tanner awoke to a world filled with hurt. His head ached unmercifully, and his left eye was sticky and sealed shut with dried blood.

He couldn't feel his hands. Dazed, he blinked down at his lap. Blood trickled steadily down his jaw. The late afternoon sun was hot and blinding on his face and body.

After a few minutes, he realized he was in some sort of greenhouse, and he that he was tied with his arms twisted behind his back to a sturdy wrought iron chair. He lifted his head with effort, trying to access his situation. He felt scraped raw all over. He hurt everywhere, especially his head, arms and left ankle, but the fact that he could neither move or feel his hands frightened him. He hated being helpless. He tried to shift the heavy chair, but couldn't budge it.

At his aborted attempts at movement, a thin, ferret-faced, ginger haired individual seated nearby, rose and regarded him silently, then turned and left. Vin blinked after him, licked his dry lips, tasting blood on the split lower one. He was hot and horribly thirsty, and knew that that was the very least of his problems. He was the prisoner of a crazy woman.

Closing his good eye, he slumped in the chair, trying to conserve what little strength he had. He would get only one chance, if any, and he had to be ready to move. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to relax and play possum. Chris would come for him, it was only a matter of time. Charlie would have seen the attack from the top of the mesa. He just had to be patient. Vin Tanner had long ago abandoned faith in God. He put his faith in a dark, fallen angel instead.

---

Las Cruces, La Paloma Steakhouse, 3:45P.M.

The Dark Angels spilled out of the restaurant, replete with good food and high spirits. Bucklin T. Wilmington had just been shot down in a spectacular fashion by a sassy, wisecracking, blonde waitress, and his friends were delighting in insuring that he never forgot it. Larabee's lips quirked in an amused smile as he listened to Buck's loud, blustering protests to the friendly jeering.

He doubted that anyone else had noticed the interplay between Buck and Raphael. During the meal they had sat close together in the booth, arms brushing as they ate. Buck stole half of Rafe's potato wedges, casually invading the smaller man's personal space, draping an affectionate arm over his shoulders, leaning close when he spoke to him. On the bike, Raphael sat easily against Buck's back, one broad hand resting casually, possessively on the tall man's hip.

This was a new twist in Buck's love life. Granted, he fucked every nubile female that moved, but to Larabee's knowledge, he had never slept with any of the gang, other than Chris himself. He would wait and see. Maybe Buck needed a dominant male constant in his life, and Raphael was a good man. Larabee would reserve judgment.

Buck had just swung a long leg over his bike, when his cellphone trilled the opening notes of Love Me Tender, from his vest pocket. Still hotly defending his seduction techniques, he pulled it out and flipped it open. "H'lo?" He frowned, winced, and withdrew the shrieking phone from his ear. "Inez! Parle English darlin'. I can't understand a word you say...yeah...yeah, he's here." Smile dying on his handsome face, he wordlessly extended the phone to Chris.

---

Heart pounding, Chris took the phone, guiltily remembering that he'd smashed his own cell earlier that morning against the bedroom wall. "Inez, yeah, it's me. Yeah? Let me speak to him."

The others watched, alarmed when Larabee paled and swayed on his feet. Buck rushed forward, hands out, only to be brushed off as Chris regained control. "Charlie? What EXACTLY happened? When? Speak English, man! Okay, we're about three hours south, we're on our way."

He was hurrying towards the Harley even as he spoke. "We'll find him, I promise. I know who has him. Tell Irene everything will be alright. I'll call."

Larabee snarled in fury, cursed viciously, whirled, and threw Buck's phone against the brick wall of the restaurant as hard as he could. He was shaking with fury. He had been a fool. He had underestimated Ella, and Vin had paid the price.

"Chris?"

He whirled on Buck, face an anguished mask, and spat, "That was Charlie. He's at the Saloon. He's been trying to find us. A dark haired woman in a red car -- Ella -- ran Vin off the road. Her men threw him in a van. The fucking bitch!"

Faces hardening, the Dark Angels rallied around their leader. Buck watched his closest friend carefully. He more than anyone, knew what would happen if the sharpshooter was dead. There would be hell to pay. Chris would rampage, then let himself sink into a morass of black rage, guilt and despair. He stepped forward and laid a firm, comforting hand on Larabee's shoulder. "We'll get the boy back, Chris. Junior's tough as old boots. The bitch is going down."

Chris ran a shaking hand through his hair as he fought his black rage down. He dared not lose control and berserk now. Vin needed him. He took a deep breath, seeking calm. He had to think, plan. He licked his lips and turned to his men. Fuck! Why did they have to be halfway across the damned state!

"We go hammer down. Straight up 25, cut over to Red Rock Butte, no stopping! JD, Ezra, you take turns busting those speedtraps outside of Socorro and Albuquerque. Lose the cops. Run your vehicles through the chopshop, after. You can meet up with us later at Ella's. Whatever happens, come hell or high water, WE DO NOT STOP! Understood?"

"Indeed, Mr. Larabee."

"We're with you, brother."

"We'll find him, Chris."

They mounted up quickly. Heartened by their unconditional support, Larabee gunned his bike, the others falling in to flank him as they roared up the highway. Ezra paced them in the speedy Corvette.

I'm on my way, Cowboy. Hold on. I love you. He had never told Vin that aloud. He prayed he would get the chance. Any cop fool enough to try and stop them would pay the ultimate price.

---

Rivera Ranchero, 5:00 P.M.

A harsh, stinging slap across the face brought Vin out of the semi-conscious daze he was drifting in. He opened his good eye to Ella's toothy, smiling face. Yep. Looks like a 'gator alright. She ran a glossy, enameled nail down the side of his face, brought the blood tipped digit up to her mouth, and licked daintily. Her malicious, dark eyes were riveted on Vin's impassive face, hungry for signs of weakness and pain.

He allowed his head to loll back, as though more dazed than he actually was, as he glanced around. She was alone. Good. Maybe he could goad her into doing something stupid. Although he had no idea in hell HOW exactly he would escape, when he could barely move, he was determined to try.

"Mmmm, sweet...tell me, Blue Eyes, does Chris find you sweet?" She crooned softly as she circled his chair slowly, running her hand through his tangled hair possessively. She spoke slowly, almost dreamily, lost in her own reality. "He's mine, you know. He always has been. I knew the first moment I laid eyes on him, he was meant for me. It took me years to find him again. I worked hard to be ready for him. Now I can give him anything he wants or needs. We're going to be the perfect couple."

She stopped in front of him, eyes drifting over his face, and down the front of his denim shirt. She stroked the curve of his strong jaw, brushed his split lip with her thumb. Her roaming hands trailed spider-like down his chest, lazily flicking open the buttons of his shirt.

"YOU had him, you know how good he is...you're a pretty boy, I can see why he wanted you...pretty blue eyes, hair, skin..."

She pinched a tiny nipple between sharp nails. Her breath quickened, eyes glittering with lust. Vin sat stoically, enduring her touch, although it made his flesh crawl. Her tongue flicked out and she licked her red lips as she eyed him. Maybe she would take him, before she killed him. Chris had certainly enjoyed that lean body. She ran her eyes up his chest, and they widened when she saw the love bites Larabee had inflicted up on the tender skin of Vin's throat.

Laughing throatily, she trailed a finger over the still livid bite beneath his jaw.

"Looks like Chris certainly found you pretty. Be a good boy, and maybe I'll find you pretty too..."

One hand twisting in his hair to hold him still, she bent suddenly and fastened her mouth over his, forcing his lips apart with her tongue, ravishing his bruised, bloody mouth. She unzipped his jeans with her free hand and groped inside to fondle his soft genitals.

Vin bucked in the chair, utterly revolted at this parody of a seduction, and unable to tolerate her touch for another moment. He could smell her rank animal musk, and her taste nauseated him. With a feral snarl, he twisted his head, sank his teeth in Ella's lower lip, and did his level best to bite the lower half of her face off. She howled with pain and clawed frantically at his face and eyes to get him to release her. Only after she raked his eyes with her nails did he let go.

Stumbling back, shrieking now with rage, she snatched a sharp set of pruning shears off the nearby potting bench and lunged back at him, determined to stab him to death. Tanner brought his uninjured right leg up and viciously kicked her between the legs. When she reeled back and lunged again, he kicked her in the gut as hard as he could. She fell back, stunned breathless against the bench, and slumped to the floor, blood dripping down her torn face, eyes glittering with rage and pain.

"Ella? What the hell?"

Del Harper aimed his gun at the back of Vin's head, confused by the sight of his employer sprawled bleeding in front of a supposedly helpless man. He cocked the hammer of his .38, ready to dispose of him.

"No! No, don't touch him! He's mine!" she snarled up at him, bloody mouth twisted in a mask of rage.

She hauled herself upright, shaking as she realized how close she had come to being horribly maimed, or worse, if Tanner had reached her jugular. Leaning against the bench until her knees stopped shaking, she stared at the silent, defiant man seated before her. She shuddered, chilled as he returned her gaze. For a long moment that feral, blue stare held her riveted. Even hurt and helpless, there was no fear in him.

Breathing hard, forgotten shears clutched in one hand, she stared fascinated. For the first time, she had caught a glimpse of the Vin Tanner that so captivated Chris Larabee. Licking her torn mouth, she raised a hand to wipe absently at her bloody chin. Blinking, she turned to Harper. "Get the box ready."

"Ella..."

"Do as you're told, Harper!"

"Ella, you never said he was a biker!"

"DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!" She screamed directly into his face, spraying him with spittle and blood.

Shaken, he stared at her, wavered, then swallowed hard and turned to obey. He was worried. He had never seen her lose control like this before. She actually thought the friend of the man she was about to murder would marry her? Del shook his head slowly. Better to think of his hefty paycheck and not worry about a ragtag band of dim-witted bikers. He went to get the others. No way in hell was he getting within reach of the man tied to the chair.

Ella took a deep breath, one hand absently toying with her dark hair. Vin neither blinked or made a sound, blue eyes locked with hers. Wondering, she reached out a hand, jerking it back when he bared bloody teeth. She circled warily until she stood behind him, then reached out and viciously yanked his hair, twisting his head back as she held the sharp shears to his throat. He never made a sound, battered face stoic.

"You're not afraid..." She sounded amazed, and a bit awed. Suddenly lifting the shears, she maliciously cut through his hair, slicing off his long, tangled ponytail near the nape of his neck. She stepped back, surveyed her handiwork, a slow satisfied smile on face. "Not so pretty now, Blue Eyes."

She circled around to study his impassive face, holding the ponytail like a trophy. Her toothy smile widened. "You will be afraid. I promise."

---

The big bikes and the souped up Corvette roared up the highway. So far they had been lucky but there was a lone speedtrap ahead, the trooper's car half hidden by a billboard. Larabee raised one hand and whipped it forward in a GO! motion. At the signal, JD bent low over his racing Katana and zoomed ahead as beaverbait as the others fell back. Sure enough, the trooper slapped on his lights and siren and roared in pursuit.

The Dark Angels picked up their pace again, opening the heavy bikes up. They were moving like bats out of hell, and making excellent time. When they reached areas where traffic was thick, they rode straight up the center line, while Ezra wove in and out behind. Drivers who saw the grim faces roaring up in their rearview mirrors, shifted lanes and got the hell out of the way. The lone County Sheriff they passed pretended he had important business elsewhere, and kept his eyes diligently on the road ahead.

---

Ella watched with dreamy satisfaction as Harper's men shoveled dirt into the grave. The eight feet long, by four feet wide and deep steel packing case meant to ship cargo, had made an excellent coffin. Tanner had put up a short, vicious fight, but a man as badly hurt as he hadn't had a chance against Harper's muscle boys.

Still, he had not made a sound, even when they dropped the lid and slid the heavy iron bolts shut. She ran an idle hand through the hank of silky hair she held, and walked back into the greenhouse. Time to freshen up before supper.

Vin fought down his growing fear and panic as the steel lid clanged shut above him. His broken wrists were throbbing and swollen, he couldn't feel his hands as he flailed uselessly against the unyielding metal. He hurt all over. It was so damned dark, close and hot inside this miserable box. He almost wished he had a blade or gun to ease his way, slow suffocation was not the way he wanted to die.

He shuddered, remembering the hellish years he had spent in Arnold Gate's hall closet as a child. He had been quite literally enslaved by the man. Even now he could remember the endless, blue flicker of the TV, as the old man sat in his easy chair, drank, and watched hour after hour of porn and survivalist tapes. His cowed wife off slaving at one of her jobs.

That scary, cramped, dark closet had gradually become a place of refuge for an abused little boy. A quiet, safe place where he didn't have to cook, scrub laundry, mop floors, or suck Arnold's cock. He had learned to retreat inside his head there, consoling himself with dim memories of Mama, Daddy, and PawPaw.

When he was rewarded for being a good boy, he was fed a can of dog food and allowed to sit at Gate's feet and watch TV too. Little Vin hadn't liked the tapes where the pretty, naked ladies were hurt by the bad men, but he had learned a lot from Ranger Bob's homemade survivalist tapes. Bob waxed eloquent on such topics as urban and wilderness survival. How to Field Strip a Rifle. How to Survive in Winter. How to Dumpster Dive. Twenty-five Ways to Eliminate the Enemy. How to slit a man's throat...

He took one deep breath and forced himself to relax. Chris would come. Ella would die. Deep in his heart, he knew that as fact, but Vin Tanner was, above all, a pragmatic man. When? He didn't want his lover to find him with fear frozen on his dead face, fingers clawed to the bone from trying to scratch through steel.

He curled up painfully on his side, and closed his eyes. He remembered stories Josiah had told of holy men in India who were buried alive and survived for days, an extreme test of faith and will. He huffed out a soft, sobbing breath of laughter. He bet holy men weren't claustrophobic! He could feel his shorn hair flop over his face. Lord, he had a haircut as bad as JD's! That thought made him smile. He decided that if he had to die, he would do so remembering good things. He thought of how fine Chris has looked all dressed up the night before. How fiercely they had loved. At least he had had that in his life.

When he had been sentenced to do hard time in Yuma, after Charlotte set him up, he had been certain that it would only be a matter of time before he died. He felt sure the confinement would drive him mad, or he would be gang raped or stabbed to death. He had known going in, that his slight stature and youth would attract predators. He hadn't counted on attracting the alpha of the Dark Angels. He sure as hell hadn't counted on finding love.

That day in the showers, when Chris had casually stepped in and backed him in his fight against Phelps and his gang, had been a miracle. One look into those green eyes was all it took. The bad in the world had just gone away. He smiled to himself, remembering. It was as though he had known the man his entire life. They had been inseparable since.

Instead of arrogantly claiming rights to Vin's ass, Chris had initiated what amounted to a surprisingly shy courtship. It wasn't as though they didn't have the time on their hands. Almost a year had passed before Larabee had made a blatant sexual advance. He had teased and seduced instead, and for a badass biker, he had been surprisingly gentle and patient with the wary, skittish Tanner.

He had even taught the illiterate, dyslexic Tanner how to read and write. Vin suspected those long afternoons spent at the battered table in the prison library were when Vin first began to really trust and love the man. He yawned. He was hot, and getting sleepy. His head hurt. Hell, everything hurt.

He pretended Chris was spooned up warm behind him, one big, calloused hand resting on his belly, while he snored lightly in Vin's ear. Soon, the sun would come up and he would get up to feed the horses, while Chris snoozed a while longer. Miss Lily would hop up on the bed, touch her tiny velvet nose to his, a request for breakfast... Peso would whinny happily when he saw Vin coming... Lord, but he hurt. Quietly, gently Vin Tanner drifted away to a safe place where no one could hurt him again.

---

The sun was low on the horizon when the bikes and 'vette roared off the main highway and thundered onto the tree lined access road leading to the long drive winding down to the main house. As they drew level with the deserted gatehouse, they braked hard, at the sight of a disheveled, excited young Hispanic woman in a maid's uniform, frantically waving her apron. It was Rafe's cousin, Julia.

She spat a hyperspeed stream of Spanish at Raphael, unconsciously wringing her apron into knots. Rafe, in turn, quickly translated. "She says Ella gave the staff the day off. Five armed men dragged Vin in earlier, he was hurt. Julia stayed behind, and watched. She called Inez, but we were already on the way. Four of the men are playing cards in the guesthouse, Ella and the other man are eating in the dining room. She didn't see what they did with Vin."

Larabee nodded grimly. "Tell her to wait here. If anyone shows up, tell her to call up to the house and let it ring twice. We go in hard and fast, cut engines on the last hill and coast down to the house. Buck, you and I go in the French doors next to the dining room. The rest of you round up the men in the guesthouse, priority is to find Vin, so don't kill anyone until we do. Let's move!

---

Ella dabbed her torn mouth carefully with the fine linen napkin. She would have to make an appointment with a cosmetic surgeon in the morning. She wanted to look perfect for the wedding. Fortunately, they were having a light, cold supper tonight. She winced as she sipped slowly at the excellent burgundy. Across the table, a silent Del Harper stared moodily into his glass. "Do cheer up, Harper. Don't be such a worrywart. It's not as though you've never killed anyone before."

She smiled at him and leaned back in her chair, enjoying the cool, fragrant summer breeze that blew in the open French doors, stirring her hair, and silky skirt. The scent of roses was heavy on the air. The sunset was going to be lovely tonight.

"Not like that Ella...that's a nasty way to die."

"He deserved it! He tried to steal Chris from me!"

"You never had me, Bitch."

The cold voice from the open doors jerked them up out of their seats. Chris Larabee, chrome Colt .45 automatic in hand, glided into the elegant dining room, leather duster flaring around his long legs. Buck Wilmington loomed at his shoulder, big riot gun already racked and aimed at Del's head. Blue eyes hard, the big man crooned a warning as the thin, ginger haired Harper made an aborted movement towards his gun.

"I wouldn't do that, pard. Chris here is in a real pissy mood, and I ain't feeling so charitable myself."

Harper froze, raised his hands, and sank slowly back in his chair. Buck stepped around the table and neatly relieved him of his gun. He could feel himself start to sweat. Fucking bitch had gotten him caught up in a biker vendetta!

Hell, why hadn't he heard their arrival? He had a very bad feeling about this. He swallowed hard, mind spinning, searching for an out. His only chance was his men. When he recognized the dark winged colors Buck wore on his vest, he nearly shit himself. He had heard of the Dark Angels.

"Chris!"

"Where's Vin, Ella?" Larabee's voice was a deadly purr.

He eyed her torn, swollen face, and a tiny, cold smile quirked his mouth. He recognized the signs of a recent tangle with a Texas Hellcat. They were interrupted by the arrival of Josiah, Nathan, and Raphael as they manhandled Harper's battered crew into the room. Silently the men lined up along the wall as indicated, hands on their heads.

One burly, heavily set man was bleeding profusely from a deep wound in his shoulder, courtesy of one of Nathan's blades. Another sported a broken, bloody nose. A third had a familiar dazed, concussed look that spoke of recent intimate contact with Josiah's fist. They were all grim, and silent, wary eyes on the heavily armed bikers who watched them so hungrily.

"I'm going to ask one more time, Ella. Listen carefully so it filters through your dim brain. WHERE IS VIN?" Larabee's voice had that cool, familiar note of dangerous clarity that made the hair on the back of Buck's neck stand straight up. Chris was going to kill soon. Across the room, Josiah began to whisper the requiescat, the prayers for the dead. One of Del's men, apparently a lapsed Catholic, recognized the prayer and closed his own eyes, face deathly pale. The other prisoners shifted uneasily.

Ella glared across the table at him, a petulant expression on her face. Why was he being so obstinate? "You have me! You don't need him! I love you!" She folded her arms stubbornly. She would never tell.

Del Harper felt a drop of cold sweat slide down his nose. The woman was crazy as a loon. He was knee deep in shit, and it was only piling higher. He blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.

"Mr. Larabee...Chris...Ah found these in the glass house. There is a great deal of blood splatter there as well. Ah have not been able to locate Mr. Tanner on the premises."

Ezra stepped quietly up to Chris's side from the terrace entrance, and laid Vin's battered, blood stained leather jacket on the table. On this he piled Vin's wallet, belt, guns, and knife. The last item, he placed gently on top. A bloody, sunstreaked, tangled hank of hair. Chris Larabee stared blindly down at it a moment and swallowed. A rag, a bone, a hank of hair... When he raised his head, his green eyes were bleak, his face a white, impassive mask. Those terrible, pitiless eyes flicked once to Del's pale, sweaty face.

Larabee spun, extended his arm and pulled the trigger of the Colt in rapid succession, nearly emptying the clip. Del flinched and jerked involuntarily at the loud thundering boom of the shots as they whistled over his head. The four men standing against the wall crumpled to the floor, dead and dying. One man coughed, and gurgled wetly, choked on his own blood, another's heels drummed the parquet floor in his last, dying spasm.

Blood, bone and brain matter splashed the pale blue wall behind them, and thick arterial blood began to pool on the polished floor.

"Where's Vin, Ella?"

It was a soft whisper now. There was no mercy in him. The stench of cordite, blood, and perforated bowel hung in the air.

"I'll never tell! It doesn't matter anyway! He's dead, and I'm alive! Love me, you're supposed to love me!" She screamed angrily at him, manicured, ringed hands braced on the table as she leaned forward, determined to make him see how things were meant to be. Larabee snarled and lunged across the table. She found herself screeching with pain an instant later, and staring at the knife that he had grabbed and drove in a clean, shining arc straight through her right hand, pinning it to the oak table. He had attacked her!

Wide mouth agape, she could only stare at him in disbelief."I did it for you! I love you." She spoke calmly, reasonably, as though it should be perfectly obvious.

Del Harper broke. He had pissed himself when Larabee had shot over his head. He had never seen anyone move that fast in his life. His men were dead, he was on his own. Time to bail. "I know where he is! I'll show you!"

Chris gave a triumphant hiss. Buck jerked the man to his feet by his collar, shotgun barrel propped under his chin, and propelled him out the door. Larabee followed, duster swirling like black wings behind him. "Josiah! Bring her!"

The order floated behind him. The others hurried to follow, Nathan quickly checking to ensure that all of Ella's men were, indeed, dead. Josiah murmured his prayers as he plucked the blade from Ella's hand with one huge hand, the other knotting in her dark hair, and yanking her unceremoniously to her feet. He carefully wiped, and tucked Vin's blade in his belt for safe keeping, before dragging her out the door.

Larabee stared in shock at the fresh grave set neatly beside Ella's greenhouse. The others stood stunned behind him. Then with a guttural snarl, he flung himself down and began to dig like an animal, with his bare hands. There was a split second hesitation, then Buck Wilmington dove in as well, big hands scooping frantically, followed quickly by Raphael, Josiah and Nathan. Ezra stood guard over a bewildered Ella and a terrified Del Harper.

The men dug furiously, Josiah finally wheeling and grabbing a large compost shovel from the side of the greenhouse. He was praying steadily under his breath, powerful shoulders working hard as he methodically scooped and flung soil from the grave, working like a human steam shovel. Chris never looked up, digging with bruised hands, growling softly, a continuous keen under his breath.

Ezra's lips moved silently, his green eyes wet. Ella slumped at his feet, seemingly in shock, clutching her wounded hand, finally quiet. Suddenly the shovel blade scraped against metal and the bikers redoubled their frenzied efforts. Standish held his breath as the lid of the metal box was quickly uncovered. Chris and Buck fumbled to slide open the iron bolts clamping it shut.

As Larabee struggled to raise the lid, Buck caught his arm, dark blue eyes tender, as he tried to spare his beloved friend further pain. "You don't have to, Chris...Let me do it."

Larabee drew a shaky breath, then met Buck's compassionate eyes. "Yes, I do, Buck."

He heaved the heavy lid up and pushed it back. He froze momentarily at the sight of the bloody streaks on the inner side of the lid, then he forced himself to look inside. Beside him, Buck gave a low groan, tears filling his eyes, one big hand shakily raising to cover his mouth. Josiah never stopped praying, his rich voice a comforting litany. Raphael joined in, his clear tenor merging with Sanchez's bass. Nathan's dark eyes were full of tears.

Vin lay curled in a fetal position, knees pulled up, scraped, bloody hands curled up under his chin, his ragged hair veiling his bruised, battered face. The golden light from the setting sun haloed him in gold. He looked like a broken angel, or a lost child.

Chris moaned aloud. No. He choked on a suddenly dry throat, and, leaning into the box, reached a shaking hand to gently brush the shorn hair from that beloved face. He hissed angrily when he saw Ella's livid scratch marks. His eyes were blurring, and his chest tight with pain. Tenderly Chris ran his knuckles along the curve of that stubborn, square jaw, and cupped the bruised face. He ran his thumb lightly over the soft, lower lip... and froze when he felt warm, moist breath and the minute flutter of long lashes against his fingers.

Larabee's breath caught, as he realized he was touching warm, living skin, then he groped frantically for a pulse. He opened his mouth, but could only manage a thin croak. On the second try, he produced a roar. He kept one hand on the warm, damp cheek. "Nathan! He's alive!"

"Thank you, Lord." Josiah rumbled fervently, big grizzled head bowed. Raphael crossed himself.

The former army medic threw himself into the grave so fast, he knocked Buck aside. His big, dark hands were gentle as he felt along Vin's skull and ran them carefully down his spine and limbs. Carefully, he probed ribs and the lean belly. Finally, he took Tanner's pulse, checked his pupil response. He lifted his head, grave eyes meeting Chris's. The men waited eagerly for his diagnosis.

"He's hurt bad, Chris. Head trauma. Multiple fractures, contusions, maybe internal bleeding. But I think his neck and back are okay. He's dehydrated, and he's lost a lot of blood. Shocky. Gonna be fevered. We got to get him to a hospital asap."

Larabee began snapping out orders. "Buck, bring Ez' car around to the side courtyard, throw some pillows and blankets in to cushion the back. You're driving. Raphael, get Julia home, pick up a crew, then come back here. Ezra, clean the whole goddamned place out, anything valuable goes. Josiah, you supervise cleanup duty. Take out the trash. Nathan, call ahead to the hospital. Let Rain know we're on our way. First, help me with Vin."

Chris climbed out of the grave, reluctant to lose contact, and waited impatiently while Nate and Buck carefully shifted, lifted, and handed Vin up to him, before they followed. He cradled his lover eagerly, happy to hold the living weight of the young man in his arms. He stood up slowly, balancing carefully, holding him close. He relished the feel of the heavy head on his shoulder, the soft, moist breath against his throat.

"Hey, what about me? I helped you find him. What do I get in return?" Del Harper chose that moment to foolishly draw attention to himself, then swallowed hard as six pairs of cold, feral eyes focused on him.

Buck smoothly drew his Glock from the back of his belt and shot him once between the eyes. The quivering body tumbled face down into Tanner's empty grave.

"You die quick, motherfucker."

"Thanks, Buck."

"You're welcome, Old Dog. It was a pleasure."

"Ahem." Ezra cleared his throat meaningfully, and indicated the madwoman kneeling at his feet with distaste. Larabee stared coldly down into her blank, lax face. She was lost in a world of her own making. As badly as he wanted to wring her thin neck with his bare hands, he refused to let go of the man he held in his arms long enough to do so.

He raised his eyes and met Josiah's across the grave in a crystal moment of perfect understanding. The big man nodded, face perfectly serene. He raised his shovel and swung it in an easy arc. Clunk! Ella never saw the blow that connected with the back of her skull.

Larabee turned and strode away, intent now on getting Vin to safety. Buck loped ahead on long legs to fetch the car. Nate, Ezra and Rafe trotted behind.

"An eye for an eye," Josiah rumbled as he rolled her into the big steel box with Harper's corpse. He straightened the hem of her dress decorously, folded her hands carefully at her breast, slammed the lid down smartly, then neatly slid the bolts shut. As he rapidly and efficiently refilled the grave, he burst into a loud, joyful hymn. He had decided to plant the young lilacs he had seen potted by the greenhouse over the grave. The Jackson crematorium would be busy tonight, he mused. Lots of ash for compost! Gardening was so good for the soul! His deep bass rang out happily as he methodically scooped the rich, loose soil.

Ella awoke with a splitting headache, and a throbbing pain in her hand. It was dark, and hot. She could barely breathe. She was cramped, and stiff, and someone was crowding the bed. Something wet and sticky was dripping down the back of her neck. She stiffened as she felt a heavy arm across her waist. She reached out to touch and murmured groggily, "Chris?"

For one split moment she smiled happily, then realization and memory returned like an open floodgate. Eyes popping wide open, she began to scream and claw uselessly at the interior of the dank box. Lunacy finally won in the end as she suffocated slowly, face frozen in disbelief.

---

Four Corners War Memorial Hospital. Three Weeks Later.

Buck Wilmington popped off the elevator on the fourth floor, clutching a fat bouquet of cheerful daisies and an enormous box of Godiva chocolates. There were at least two nurses working this shift that he badly wanted to play doctor with.

As he strode down the hall towards the nurse's station, he passed a gurney slowly being pushed by a rotund orderly. On it lay a groaning intern, one hand clutching his broken glasses, the other clamping an ice pack to his bloody nose. One eye peered blearily at the ceiling, the other was an impressive shade of purple and swollen shut. Buck winced, whistled, and waggled inquiring brows at the orderly.

"LeRoy, old son. What happened to Doc Holly?"

LeRoy rolled expressive eyes, a broad, white grin splitting his dark face. The snobbish, condescending Holly was not popular among the staff. Hence the leisurely stroll down to Emergency, and X-Ray. "Damned fool was making bad jokes about motorcycle accidents. Popped off a few remarks about the organ donor in room 434. Turns out Mr. Larabee was standing behind him at the coffee machine."

Buck gave an unsympathetic snort. "Chris must be in a good mood. He's still alive. Hell, he's even conscious!"

He slapped the chuckling LeRoy a friendly high five and continued on to deliver his goodies. After ten minutes of intense flirtation with the lovely Nancy, she shooed him away so she could get her work done, so he blew her a kiss and continued on to Vin's room. He hoped Chris had taken time today to get some food, and sleep. Since the night they had carried Vin in, Larabee had hardly left the hospital. Buck huffed sadly, Lord, he hated to see Vin like this.

---

Buck pushed the door open, stepped inside and was nearly bowled over as one of Vin's attending physicians exited. The thin, frizzy haired woman's face was mottled red with anger and she held her clipboard so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Really, Mr. Larabee! This is MOST irregular!"

She glared up at Buck, elbowed him aside, and stormed out the door. Buck raised an eyebrow and turned an inquiring face towards Chris. He had Vin sitting up on the edge of the bed, and, crouching at his feet, was gently rolling a thick wool sock onto one narrow foot. Larabee smirked up at his old friend as he slid a soft doeskin moccasin on over the sock. "Buck."

"What's up Old Dog? Doc Cooper don't look too happy."

"I checked Vin out AMA. Bitch wanted to check him into Shady Oaks."

"The nuthouse?" Buck was shocked and he bristled in outrage, big hands on lean hips as he glared after the woman, moustache twitching in irritation.

"Yeah. I told her what she could do with her clipboard." Larabee sounded extremely pleased with himself. He straightened and removed an oversized flannel shirt from the gym bag on the nearby chair. Carefully, he eased the sleeve over Vin's casted wrist, then around his shoulders. He had already dressed him in loose sweats and a Tee. He smiled into blank blue eyes and absently dropped a kiss between Vin's brows as he finished dressing him. Raising a hand, he smoothed Vin's bangs back. "He'll get better faster at home, Buck. He hates hospitals, he'd just waste away."

Buck nodded slowly. He was uncertain about that, but knew better than to argue with Chris Larabee when he determined a course of action.

Vin's physical ailments had been quickly diagnosed and treated. He had Colles fractures in both wrists, facial fractures of the left orbital and zygomatic bones, and a serious concussion from a diffuse brain injury that had put him in a coma for three days. He had torn ligaments in his left ankle, and his hip and back were severely bruised. He suffered multiple contusions, cuts, and dehydration as well as a bad case of road rash. His heavy motorcycle jacket and thick jeans had protected him from worse. In short, he was lucky to be alive.

The problem was his mental state. When he finally regained consciousness, he was in what appeared to be a dissociative fugue triggered by the trauma he had suffered at Ella's hands. He was mute and responded only sluggishly to aural and physical stimuli. He slept a great deal, and took no initiative on his own. He would eat and drink if fed, but moved only when physically and verbally encouraged to do so. He neither recognized or acknowledged anyone.

Once the doctors had determined that there was no organic cause for this disorder, such as hematoma, intercranial bleeding, oxygen deprivation, epilepsy, or drug abuse, they had tentatively diagnosed a dissociative disorder, and recommended that he be hospitalised at Shady Oaks for a regime of drug treatment and therapy. Doctor Cooper had been most enthusiastic about that course of action. A specialist in psychiatric disorders, she had been eager to study Vin's case; perhaps it would result in a paper worthy of publication.

"Buck, see if you can scout up a wheelchair."

"You got it, old pard."The big man patted Vin's shoulder gently. "Back in a flash, Junior. We're bustin' you out of here!"

Larabee gave the tall man a grateful smile. He could always count on Buck to back him in any play. He gently touched Vin's cheek. The ugly bruises and scratches were finally healing and fading and the swelling gone. Luckily, Vin's eyes had not been seriously damaged by Ella's nails.

Rain had carefully trimmed his shorn hair. He looked amazingly young, with it only an inch or so longer than chin length. Chris smiled into the dark blue eyes. "I know you're in there, Cowboy. Everythings gonna be fine now. We're going home. I guess I'm gonna have to keep ragging you about how cute you look with that new haircut until you haul off and pop me one," he teased gently, ruffling the short, silky hair.

He pulled a small tube of Blistex from a pocket and gently dabbed Vin's dry lips. Rain had carefully explained to him the importance of tactile stimuli to patients who suffered from dissociative states. Patients often were so detached they felt distant from their body or self, as though in a dream. It was a state of thinking without feeling. It could be so severe that the external world was believed to be unreal.

Josiah had also explained to Chris how abused children often retreated into their own heads, escaping into a safe place of their own creation. Only when they felt unthreatened would they emerge. Larabee felt confident that Vin would recover, once he got over the trauma triggered by the claustrophobic horror of being buried alive. He sure as hell wasn't gonna give up on him. Vin Tanner was nothing if not a survivor.

Larabee was well aware of how lucky Vin had been. Fifty percent of head injured patients died. Half survived with severe neurological deficit. He was thankful that Vin had survived his attack, and was confident that he would eventually recover. It was inconceivable that he lose Vin now, after all he had been through. It would take more than one scrawny madwoman to destroy his lover. In the meantime he would be there for Vin. He would care for him, and wait as long as necessary until he was himself again.

He smiled, remembering the look on Dr. Cooper's face when she had tried to dissuade him from checking Vin out of the hospital by crudely pointing out the level of personal attention Vin would need while at home. She had been so certain that a hard ass biker would never make that effort, glad to leave Vin to the mercy of the nursing staff at Shady Oaks. Larabee had calmly and flatly told the woman that he had kissed that sweet ass often enough and that he had no problems with wiping it if necessary. Then he had sweetly told her what she could do with her diagnosis and her clipboard.

Buck came bustling through the door equipped not only with a wheelchair, but two pretty nurses and a bunch of brightly colored mylar balloons as well. He beamed jovially down at Vin, while Larabee shook his head in fond exasperation. Trust Buck to make any event a grand occasion. On the other hand, escaping from the hospital was certainly something Vin WOULD celebrate. Carefully, he slid an arm around the trim waist, and gently urged Vin off the bed, and into the chair. "Time to go home Cowboy. Miss Lily and Peso sure will be glad to see you. They haven't had anyone to spoil them in weeks. Miss Lily tried to sharpen her claws on my ass last time I was home."

They made a small boisterous procession down the hall, Buck flirting with and teasing the nurses, while Chris led the way. They stopped briefly at the nursing station so the nurses there could say goodbye to Vin. The silent, unresponsive young man received several very unprofessional kisses before they continued on. Buck pretended to sulk and huff a bit, miffed because he didn't get any.

Larabee buckled Vin securely into the passenger seat of the Ram, while Buck watched.

"You sure you don't need me to give ya a hand for a few days, Chris? You know I don't mind."

"Nah, Buck. We'll be fine. He ain't no trouble, and I hired Francisco full time to help with the horses. We're just gonna kick back and be lazy for a while."

Larabee slid a pair of sleek dark sunglasses over Vin's tearing, blinking eyes. He wasn't used to the bright summer New Mexico sun after weeks inside. Buck gave an admiring whistle and spoke teasingly to the young man. "Whoa, Junior! Look just like a movie star!"

Larabee snorted softly, amused. "Better watch it, Buck. He may get you good when he remembers that remark later!"

"Ha! Speak for yourself, old pard! How often have you teased him about his haircut?"

Chris grinned in rueful acknowledgement. He slapped Buck happily on the shoulder.

"Charlie and Irene are coming up Sunday. I thought we'd have a small cookout. Just a few of us. 'Siah can throw some ribs on the grill. It'll do Vin good to have some company."

"You got it, Old Dog. I'll be sure to buy those ribs myself. How about I bring some of Sweet Sue's goodies to tempt Junior?"

"Sounds good, Buck. You know how much he likes those damned rainbow cupcakes. Pure sugar on sugar!"

The two tall men chuckled softly together. They made a formidable pair, roughly clad in their jeans and leathers, but their faces were gentle as they regarded the young man seated so quietly beside them. Vin Tanner might be a bit lost to them now, but when he made his way home, he would find them watching over him like faithful guardian angels. And what better guardians could a man have, than a pair of fallen Angels?

---

Larabee Ranch, Early Sunday Morning

Larabee awoke slowly, the morning sun streaming through the bedroom window warm on his face. He was sprawled on his back with a silky head pillowed on one shoulder, Vin snug against his side, his bandaged ankle thrown over Larabee's leg, one heavy casted wrist pillowed on his belly. Chris chuckled softly as he felt the warm dampness on his left pec.

"Are you drooling on me, Cowboy?" he teased tenderly, tipping Vin's face up to his, so he could see his eyes.

Those wide blue eyes blinked sleepily open even as he watched, but remained blank. Larabee sighed softly in disappointment. Still, he was certain that one day soon Vin would gaze back at him in perfect recognition of the bond they shared.

In his heart, Chris felt Vin was improving. There were small, encouraging signs. He was sure that Vin snuggled close each night, seeking more than the warmth of his body, and more than once Vin had frowned or made a face, as though puzzled about something. Once, while standing at the stove, Larabee was certain that he felt Vin's eyes on his back, and yesterday, when Chris had headed down the hall to the bathroom, leaving Vin on the couch, he had returned to find Vin's face turned in the direction Chris had exited.

A man could hope, anyway. Chris smiled ironically to himself. Some of the others had been amazed at the patience he had shown in his care of his young partner. He supposed if word got out, his rep as Badass Larabee would be shot to hell. Not that he gave a rat's ass about the opinions of others. What was important was lying trustingly in his arms right now, and come hell or high water, Larabee would do everything in his power to insure that he stayed there.

He still had nightmares about that damned grave. In his dreams, he dug endlessly, but Vin remained forever lost to him, sealed in that heavy steel box. He had been viciously glad that Josiah had buried that crazy bitch alive. Few things had given him as much purely visceral satisfaction as knowing she was entombed in that dank box meant for Vin.

Ezra and JD had used the information obtained from her records to wipe her out financially. Every dime she had possessed, was funneled away into a series of secure offshore accounts. Her safe had been emptied; her lavish collection of diamond jewelry fenced. Larabee had kept the abused stallion. Ezra had also discovered several invaluable documents on her computer. Apparently blackmail was a hobby of Ella's.

At Chris's order, the Rivera ranch had been restored to Jorge Rivera and his family, on the condition that Larabee was written in as a silent partner in the ownership of the stables. Ella had set up and blackmailed the only son of that family with threats of a drug charge, in her desire to obtain one of the finest and most venerable properties in New Mexico. She would have stopped at nothing to have Christopher Larabee.

Larabee's musings about Ella Gaines' demise were cut short by an inquiring chirp from the side of the bed, as Miss Lily made her ritual morning demand for kitty breakfast. She hopped up on the bed, purring loudly and touched her nose to one of Vin's limp hands. For a second Vin, blinked, and seemed to recognize the little cat, but he remained silent and unresponsive.

"Time to rise and shine, pard. Got company coming today. Gotta get you all spruced up for Charlie and Irene. Don't want Irene after my ass with that damned spoon..."

Talking to Vin as he always did, Larabee rolled slowly out of bed and gently urged him up, then propelled him into the bathroom, jumpstarting their day. He made it his habit to speak with, and touch Vin constantly. This was partially to provide Tanner with verbal and tactile stimuli, and partially to anchor and reassure himself that his young partner was still with him.

---

Blossom's Gentleman's Club. Buck's apartment.

Buck Wilmington awoke with a truly horrendous hangover, supplemented by what felt like a woodpecker trapped inside his skull. It was pecking right between his eyes at the moment, and he briefly pondered asking Raphael to shoot him and provide some immediate relief. He groped one big hand across the bed, seeking a strong, muscled shoulder, but found only cold, empty sheets. Shit.

His eyes popped open as memory surfaced. Rafe was gone. After spending nearly every night for the last month with Buck, he had walked out yesterday. The previous week, Rafe had hesitantly asked Buck to accompany him to Mexico for a brief family visit. Buck had cheerfully agreed, then promptly forgotten the date. He had been preparing yesterday for Chris's cookout, when Rafe had reminded him of his promise and today's date.

Buck had winced and casually blown him off, while promising to go another day. After all, he had promised Chris to show up at the ranch. Raphael had just looked at him thoughtfully, then turned silently and walked away. Dismayed, and realizing he had somehow hurt him, Buck followed and caught up with Rafe outside the club as he was climbing onto his bike. He had tried to charm the dark man into staying. "Now Stud, don't be that way. We can go Monday..."

"No. I can see now it was a mistake to even ask you. I had thought.." The last sentence trailed off, and Raphael had smiled ruefully to himself and shook his dark head. What was the point?

Buck reached out a hand and caught his shoulder. "Thought what, amigo?"

Raphael had shrugged his hand off, and looked him directly in the eye. "I had thought we were more than amigos. I had hoped we were amante, but that was never true. I was never more than a distraction for you, like one of your putas. You will always be Larabee's bitch. He has only to crook a finger for you to come running."

Shocked speechless for a moment, Buck had just stared into those hot, dark eyes, only then realizing just how jealous and angry Raphael was. Where Larabee's anger was volatile and easily recognized, Raphael's Latin temperament smouldered hidden, then flared like a brushfire to burn quick and hot. Finally, he stammered, "That's not true... I--"

"No? Then tell me something, amigo mio, whose bed would you be in right now if we had buried Vin last month, instead of bringing him home?" He leaned forward into Buck's stricken face and spoke hotly, unleashing his jealousy and pent up frustration in bitter, venomous words, striking out verbally, instead of physically. "If Vin had died, you would have been in Larabee's bed before that boy's corpse was cold, with your ass up in the air. All you will ever be is Larabee's mariquita, and Raphael Cordova de Martinez has no need or desire for another man's piece of ass."

With that, he had spat contemptuously at Buck's feet then gunned his bike, and gone, heading south towards Mexico. He left Buck standing forlornly in the parking lot, big hands clenching uselessly at his sides. Sometimes shards of truth cut sharper then any razor.

Wilmington sighed and sat up, head cradled in his hands. In all honesty, he had not meant to treat Rafe so cavalierly. Their relationship as lovers was so new and unexpected. Buck wasn't used to having a steady lover to confide in. Then he had been distracted by Chris's distress at Vin's abduction and consequential injuries. He had automatically poured most of his energy into seeing to Larabee's needs while Vin was hospitalized.

It simply had not occurred to him that he had practically ignored Raphael's existence for the past month. He stared gloomily down at his bare toes. Hell, it was a wonder the man hadn't just shot him out of sheer frustration. He was beginning to get a glimmer of feeling for Larabee's bad temper and constant crankiness. He didn't know what to do about Rafe. He didn't want to think about it now. Sighing, he hauled his ass off the bed, and queasily headed for the shower.

---

Larabee's Ranch

Chris spooned a bite of cereal into Vin's mouth and waited patiently while he absently chewed and swallowed, sleepy blue eyes fixed at an unknown point over Chris's shoulder. Larabee smiled and chided him fondly, "You are gonna be so pissed when you find out I spoon fed you, Kid."

The crunch of tires on gravel, and a noisy blast of horn heralded Buck's arrival. Glancing out the window, he saw the big man struggling out of his truck juggling an armload of grocery bags and bakery boxes.

Chuckling, Larabee set the bowl on the kitchen table and went to open the screen door. He propped the door open and relieved Buck of a stack of toppling boxes.

"Didn't mean for you to buy out Sue's, Buck," he quipped dryly, as Wilmington huffed with relief and dropped his load of culinary delights on the kitchen counter.

"Hell, Chris. I didn't have to buy it. I just went in for cupcakes! Sue made me take half of this stuff when she heard Vin was ailing. Said she knew there was a reason she hadn't seen them sweet blue eyes in weeks. Wanted to make sure that Junior got his treats." Buck gently ruffled Vin's hair, something he devoutly hoped he wouldn't be able to get away with for long. He turned to Chris and indicated a bag. "Better put that in the fridge, it's all ice cream."

Larabee grinned when he opened it and found not one, but three half gallons of homemade ice-cream and shook his blond head, as he wedged them into the freezer. As he moved around the kitchen, putting away Buck's haul, Wilmington took a seat next to Vin.

"Hey, Junior, having breakfast? Let old Buck give you a hand..."

The big man reached for Vin's cereal bowl and spoon, then winced and swore when he saw the contents. He gulped hard. His hangover must be worse than he thought. The contents of Vin's bowl was a virulent shade of green, and appeared to be frothing. Buck's stomach gave a queasy lurch as the alien cereal crackled and popped spitefully at him. "What the hell is this shit, Chris? Looks like somebody already ate it first."

Chris snickered at the familiar, nauseated expression on Buck's face. "That's Green Slime cereal, Buck. It's popular with the kids now."

"Goddamn! What ever happened to Cheerios or Captain Crunch? Hell, even them Cocoa Puffs with that crazy bird has gotta be better than this!" Buck closed his eyes and shuddered theatrically. Larabee snickered at him. "It is a bit hard on a hangover, Big Dog. Believe me, I know! Vin likes it though."

Chris took the spoon and bowl and gently fed Tanner another mouthful. He crumpled up a paper napkin and wiped away a few stray drops of milk from Vin's chin. His handsome face was calm as he performed this most mundane of tasks, but Buck saw the shadowed eyes and the minute signs of stress.

"Why don't you go grab a nice long, hot shower, old pard. I'll help Vin finish his breakfast, then walk him out to the deck, while you eat yours. Bet the boy would like to soak up some rays."

Larabee hesitated a moment, then smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Buck. Appreciate it."

"No problem. Gimme that bowl." Gamely Buck accepted the suspect cereal bowl, while Larabee padded down the hall to the bathroom. He carefully guided a heaping spoonful towards Vin's mouth, frowning in consternation when Tanner clamped his teeth shut and refused it. "Ah, hell! Come on Junior, eat for ol' Buck..." he crooned softly.

He waved the spoon hopefully in front of Vin's eyes and made buzzing airplane noises.

"Here comes the plane...open up the hangar. Shit. I hope you don't shoot me for this later."

He vroom-vroomed gently, and was elated when Vin placidly accepted the bite. "Alright! Hell, son, I always knew you would eat anything put in front of you, but Goddamn, we gotta get you a box of something decent, like Corn Flakes, or Rice Crispies..."

He rambled on, talking nonsense, reporting the week's news, telling about the plans for the upcoming cookout, gently needling Vin about his ancient motorcycle's state of constant disrepair, hoping in vain to spark a response. All the while he fed his young friend as tenderly as any father would an ailing child. Raphael's remarks about Vin dying had both shocked and cut him to the quick. Although he knew Rafe had spoken only out of sheer frustration and anger, he liked to believe that he was a better man, a better friend than that. He didn't want Chris at the expense of the fragile soul seated before him.

---

Chris leaned against the shower wall and let the hot water sluice over his shoulders and down his back. The lean blond was more stressed than he cared to admit. It frightened him that Vin remained in this fugue state for the length of time he had. He had secretly nursed the hope that the return home would somehow jolt Tanner back to consciousness, but a week had passed with no discernable change. Would Vin remain lost in his own head indefinitely? Could Larabee live with that?

Chris Larabee was the first to admit that he was no saint. He was truly thankful to have Vin alive and safe at home. He was prepared to wait as long as necessary until Vin healed. What he hadn't counted on was pent up sexual frustration on top of everyday stress! Hell, it was already difficult to sleep with Vin's lean body snuggled close. He woke up diamond hard every morning, his first thought and desire to reach for and make love with his partner.

He didn't know how much longer he could remain celibate, and masturbation barely took the edge off. He had grown accustomed to frequent, lusty sex with his partner, and he craved it like the air he breathed. He resisted the urge to slide a hand down and stroke his cock. Would it be wrong to make love with Vin now? He sighed, and reached over to crank up the needle spray. Head tilted back in the hot stream, he remembered the first time he and Vin had made love...

---

It was late August, and hot as hell in the old, antiquated cellblock. The steel and concrete soaked up the relentless sun during the day and seemed to radiate heat at night. The air conditioning system was nearly nonexistent. In the upper tiers of cells, there was no air movement at all, and the air hung hot and thick enough to choke a man.

Tempers had flared all week among both prisoners and guards, and there were a record number of fights and stabbings. Block D was locked down. Two men had died in a brawl in the yard over points in a basketball game. The weather forecast had predicted rain, but so far that promise of relief from the heat wave had only taken form as heat lightning flickering on the horizon.

It was full moon night, and Vin was restless as a cat on a griddle.

Stripped to boxers and wifebeater, he silently paced the eight foot cell. Tonight his claustrophobia was almost choking him. He gripped the steel bars at the front of the cell hard and tilted his head up to stare at the dirty, meshed windows. The full moon mocked him through the barred skylight and he could smell the approaching rain.

"Reckon you're gonna wear a hole in the floor with all that pacing."

The laconic voice from the top bunk behind him brought an involuntary smile to his lips.

"Thought you were asleep."

"Nah. All that prowling your're doin' is keeping me awake. Besides its too damned hot."

A man two levels down began to wail reedily. That was followed and amplified by curses and yells from men who had been asleep, or trying to sleep. A guard shouted for order. Someone cussed back and began to beat the bars of his cell, making a noisy, metallic clang.

"There goes Rooster again. Right on time."

"Worse than a damned alarm clock."

Vin was startled at how close Chris was. He hadn't heard him ghost up behind him. A second later, he jerked in reaction when long arms reached around him, and strong hands gently closed over his, where they were clenched on the bars. A warm breath huffed against the nape of his neck.

"Easy, Cowboy. Easy." Chris's voice was soft. He gently sqeezed the white knuckled hands to loosen their death grip on the bars, and waited for Vin to make the next move. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet, sweaty scent of Tanner's hair. When Vin didn't move, or protest, he nuzzled into the hair behind the smaller man's ear. He was careful to hold Vin loosely, and not crowd him against the bars.

"I can feel it, Chris."

"The rain?"

"Yeah...it's coming west, from the mountains. I can almost taste it..." The longing in Tanner's voice was undisguised. He tilted his head slightly, so that his cheek brushed Larabee's. Their fingers were still entwined on the steel, Larabee's lightly caressing the ones beneath his.They shared breath for a long moment. Both were waiting for an unspoken signal. It came with the lightning.

One moment their mouths were close, lips barely touching, the next their tongues were deep in each other's mouths as they kissed hungrily, both starved for human touch. Tanner turned with a groan into Larabee's arms. They embraced fiercely, each trying to sink into each other's hard body, sharing deep, wet, passionate kisses, uncaring if they were observed.

The rain came down with a vengeance, pounding the skylight, thunder rumbling and shaking the window panes, while the lightning cracked like the lash of heaven against the bone dry earth and concrete. It illuminated the dark cell and the two lean bodies there. They stood pressed tightly together in the center of the tiny cell, seeking to meld their bodies together, sweat gleaming on ivory and gold skin.

Larabee's big hands cradled Tanner's head, and Vin's hands clawed Chris's back and shoulders as they tasted each other and sought to climb into each other's skin. The sounds of the summer storm masked their passionate sighs and groans. Tanner didn't fight when Larabee slid both arms around the slighter man's waist and lifted him off his feet to manhandle him back onto the bottom bunk.

When the storm broke an hour later and was only a rumble of distant thunder and the whisper of rain, the cool gray dawn light found them still in a tangled heap of limbs. Chris was naked, sprawled on his back, long legs spread wide, his torn boxers flung across the cell. Vin dozed on his chest,tousled head tucked under Larabee's chin, his ripped undershirt rucked up around his waist. Larabee's big, calloused hands were sleepily cupping and kneading the creamy skin of Vin's bare ass. They were still hot and sticky with more than sweat, but now they were together, taking comfort and peace from each other. Larabee's head was lolled back, his trademark smirk now a sated grin.

---

Larabee jolted back to himself with a gasp as he came hard, spurting white strands of cum against the glass of the shower door. Trembling he braced himself against the slick shower wall. Goddamn. All he had to do to orgasm was THINK about his lover. Shakily he turned into the needle spray and cranked it to cold. Something had to give soon. Hopefully, it wouldn't be him. He turned the spray off, and stepped out, reaching for a towel.

As he padded barefoot through the bedroom, he heard Buck's deep voice rumble outside on the deck. While he tugged a T-shirt on, he peered curiously out the back window. A fond smile curved his wide mouth as he watched the tall man guide Vin into the steel framed hammock on the back deck, and then fuss over him like a enormous hen with one chick. He could hear him rambling on about something as his big hands gently tucked Vin's limbs into the hammock and plumped cushions.

He watched as Buck stroked Vin's hair back out of his eyes, teasing him jovially about his new haircut, even as he carefully eased a pillow under Vin's bandaged ankle. He then tucked a light cotton afghan over the smaller man. Even in the summer warmth, Vin seemed to chill easily; he had lost quite a bit of weight. Like Larabee, Buck talked to Vin constantly, refusing to treat him as a non-entity.

Chris had noticed that some of the others were a bit awkward now in their dealings with Vin. Rain and Nathan took a professional, wait and see attitude. Josiah sat by him and read sections of poetry and spiritual books. Ezra brought gifts of delicacies that he knew Vin favored, while JD kept his distance. Inez and Lydia mothered and cooed. Raphael, for the most part was silent, taking his cues from Buck.

Chris frowned, eyes narrowed. Where was Raphael? He hadn't seen the man in days and he and Buck had been inseparable for weeks. Buck, who had shown up this morning with a hell of a hangover and shadowed, unhappy eyes. Something was off here, and Chris had been too caught up in his own worries to notice. Larabee padded down the hall to interrogate his right hand man.

---

Buck sat down on the deck chair, one big hand automatically rocking the hammock. He caught himself, and shook his head. Hell, Vin wasn't a baby! Snorting ruefully, he took his hand away and leaned back. His need to nurture and protect the young man was almost as strong as that of Larabee. Sometimes he caught himself wondering about what would have been if Adam had lived. He had loved that little boy fiercely.

His dark blue eyes strayed to the big willow in the back yard. This was the tree Adam's swing had hung from. He had pushed the boy a thousand times in that swing, listening to childish confidences and grievances. The swing was gone now, the trunk of the old tree scarred from an axe blade. Chris had taken an axe to it one night in a drunken rage, trying to chop it down. Buck had wrestled the axe away from him, sat on him, and held him until he had raged and cried himself out, then had taken him to bed.

He glanced pensively at Vin. The younger man was curling up, blinking sleepily in the warm sunshine. Even as he watched, dark lashes fluttered closed, and his breathing evened out. Vin slept a great deal now, his battered body taking the time to heal. His little cat hopped up to join him, curling up in the curve of his body, bright golden eyes narrowed as she eyed Buck suspiciously.

Buck had been just as suspicious of Vin at first. When Chris had been sentenced to Yuma, he had been worried shitless. Larabee at the time was in a bad space in his mind, he didn't give a damn about anything. He didn't care if he lived or died. The guilt about Adam's death had damned near destroyed the man.

Buck and Ezra had worked furiously to get Chris's sentence reduced, by hook or crook. They had put the hurt on quite a few lawyers and judges. They had been convinced that if they didn't get the blond out soon, he would die there.

Buck had visited him religiously every visiting day, plopping his ass in that battered wooden chair, across the scarred table, trying to keep Larabee alive by sheer force of will. Chris had been laconic and indifferent, green eyes hooded and remote. Buck could feel him withdraw, and it had scared the big man to death. Larabee was his family, the focus of his life, and he was helpless to help him. He couldn't even touch him.

---

Then one day things had changed. When Larabee had appeared across the visitor's table, it was as though and electrical current had been switched on. He was alive again. His blond hair and goatee were neatly combed and trimmed, his green eyes clear and bright, his prison denims immaculate. He was also sporting bruised knuckles and a familiar, devilish, smirk. All because of one reason...

His name is Vin Tanner. He was set up by Will and Charlotte Richmond. They run their stop-and-rob operation out of Tucson. I want them found, and Vin cleared. Put the hurt on the bitch, and the man will break. Hell, kill her if you have to.

After that it was Vin this, Vin that. Almost every other word out of Larabee's mouth had been Vin, Vin, Vin. Buck had been suspicious as hell. Who was this mysterious Vin, and what hold did he have over Chris? He and Ezra had been quick to check the man out. What they found had both appalled and impressed them.

The boy's family had been murdered when he was five. His father and grandfather had been Texas Rangers. He had been thrown to the mercy of the foster care system after that. A series of abusive homes followed, the last he had disappeared from at age eight, his guardian found dead with a slit throat. There was no record of him ever attending school. He surfaced briefly at age thirteen, in a juvenile care facility, which he promptly escaped from. He had turned up again in a hospital in Houston, beaten nearly to death, at age sixteen.

The next sparse records were from the Army. He had been a Ranger, and trained as a sniper. Most of his records there were classified. Then he had taken up bounty hunting, hunting down only the most dangerous, big money prey. The list of captures had made the hair on Buck's nape stand up.

The only thing Buck could glean with any certainty from the information he had, was that this Vin Tanner was a survivor, and damned dangerous. Worried, he had tried to warn Chris of this discovery, afraid Tanner was using him. Larabee had laughed so hard, he had nearly rolled off his chair. His green eyes were fond as he regarded Buck's indignant face.

"Hell, Buck. I KNOW he's dangerous. I found that out the first day I met him, and as for using me; well, you might say we use each other."

Buck had decided to reserve judgment. Sure enough, they had found out that the boy had been set up. Will Richmond had been delighted to produce evidence to clear Tanner of armed robbery after watching Josiah and Nathan work on Charlotte for a half hour. Both Richmonds were now nicely bleaching bones in the Arizona desert.

Chris had been paroled early, after Ezra had spent a half hour in a certain Judge's chambers with a set of lurid photographs. It had taken several months for the rusty wheels of justice to release Vin. Wilmington had watched in amazement as Larabee had promptly started visiting the young man in prison, every chance he got.

Larabee had been damned sure that no one would lay a hand on Vin after Chris was released. He had made a point of leaving Cletus Phelp's broken-necked corpse as a reminder of just what would happen to anyone who even thought about touching his property. He had bribed, threatened, cajoled and blackmailed until Vin had more bodyguards in prison -- both prisoner, and guard -- than he had friends out.

Buck could still remember the excitement on Larabee's face the day they went to pick up Vin after his release. Chris had ordered all the boys to look sharp. So, with gleaming, polished bikes and oiled leathers the Dark Angels had rumbled en masse into the prison parking lot.

They had spent a few minutes revving their bikes, gleefully making the guards nervous while they waited for Vin to appear.

They had all been curious about this mysterious Tanner, whom Larabee had been so taken with from the start. Just who the hell was he? Buck was already resentful, and feeling vaguely threatened. He was prepared to hate Tanner at first sight. The slight young man in prison denims had come as a shock.

Sharp blue eyes set in a handsome, almost pretty, chiseled face regarded the bikers warily. His curly, light brown hair reached almost to his shoulders. He looked like a teenager,as he stood on the steps, clutching a small paper bag containing his few belongings. Yet he met their curious gazes coolly, a stubborn set to that square jaw that they would all rapidly become familiar with.

Larabee was grinning like a fool, his happiness infectious. He rolled his big Harley up to the foot of the concrete stairs, and arrogantly cocked his blond head to look up at Vin. "Hey, Kid, you ready to go home?"

A lopsided grin split Tanner's face at the sight of Larabee. "Hey Cowboy. Reckon you made it after all."

He moved easily down the steps to clasp wrists with Chris. Larabee gave a happy, throaty growl and yanked him into a hug, squeezing him tightly before releasing him. Vin emerged from the embrace, face scarlet with embarrassment. Chris had just grinned at him and introduced him around to the boys. When Buck's turn came, Tanner had tilted his head back and looked the taller Wilmington in the eye, his handshake firm. "Chris's right hand man."

"Yep."

And that had been that. Vin had never tried to step in, or interfere with Buck's position, or with the varied complicated business deals that the Dark Angels incurred. He simply backed them up as Larabee's silent shadow. He was a quiet man, shy in the manner of a wild creature which had never had much opportunity to interact with others socially. He trusted one man, and tolerated the others.

Buck had learned that night just where Tanner stood in Larabee's life. They had all convened at the Saloon to noisily celebrate Vin's release. Buck had made a point to introduce Vin to Nora, Emily, and Ruby, certain the boy would welcome some female company. He had watched covertly from the bar, sipping a beer, as Vin had politely excused himself from the ladies and slipped outside. Chris had followed moments later.

Buck had moseyed along after them a few minutes after that, worried that he had somehow offended the boy. He would never forget what he found. Chris and Vin were standing in the parking lot beside Blossom's, next to Larabee's bike. Tanner's back was to Buck, Chris's face clearly visible over his shoulder. He could hear Chris murmuring softly to Vin, his voice gentle.

Buck had watched, shocked, as Larabee embraced and tenderly kissed the younger man. Then Chris had deliberately lifted his head and sent Buck a familiar, challenging look. All the while he held Vin close and stroked the curly head resting on his shoulder. It was the same arrogant look he had once sent Buck at a dance, when he had met a curvy, auburn-haired beauty.

The message was the same. A clear warning. This is mine. Stay away.

Swallowing hard, Buck had turned and walked away. He had lost out again and this time it was twice as painful because it was to another man.

---

The sound of the sliding glass door being opened jolted Buck back to the present.

Larabee stepped out, barefoot and clad in a Harley-Davidson Tee and his customary black jeans. He held two bottles of Corona. He padded over to sit across the table from Buck. "You look like a man who could use a beer."

"Thanks, Chris."

"Doin' some heavy thinking there, Big Dog."

"Naw. Just remembering." Buck took a sip from his bottle.

Larabee was looking fondly into the hammock. Miss Lily blinked placidly back at him, nestled now under a sleeping Vin's chin. "He sleeps like a baby. I can't keep him awake. Rain says it's good for him, helps him heal."

Buck smiled, and compulsively reached out again to rock the hammock.

"Yep. And I keep rocking him, just like his mama."

They chuckled quietly together. It was a beautiful day. The sky clear and blue, with a nice breeze to offset the hot sun, whispering through the big trees. They could hear the horses whickering softly down at the corral.

"I was afraid I'd lost him, Buck. I'm still afraid..."

Larabee's voice was thick, and it shocked Wilmington out of his contemplative mood. He straightened and reached out a compassionate hand to grasp Chris's, seeking to comfort, as always. Larabee gave him a weak smile in return, gave his hand a grateful squeeze, then released it. He dropped his eyes to Vin's face, reached out and lightly touched one of Vin's casted hands, rubbing the fingers tenderly.

"I never told him I love him, Buck, before this. I was too afraid. Now I tell him every day, and it don't make a damned bit of difference." He raised bright green eyes to Buck's face. "I reckon I never told you that I always cared for you like a brother, Buck. I know you always wanted more from me, but I could never give it."

Wilmington swallowed hard."You can't give what you don't have, Chris. That ain't the way it works."

They sat quietly together for a few minutes. Larabee cleared his throat, then spoke hesitantly. "Raphael coming over later?"

"Naw. Gone to Mexico." Buck tried to keep the bleakness out of his tone, but had the suspicion he had failed miserably.

"He's a good man, Buck. I wouldn't give up on him, if I were you."

Buck tilted his head and gave Chris a bitter smile. "I reckon he's the one who's given up on me, Old Dog." He spoke gently and watched as Larabee flinched.

"Shit."

"Yeah. I just ain't used to keeping steady company."

Larabee stared out over his land, chest tight. He huffed, and pushed his blond hair back.

"You want to help me ice down the drinks, and fire up the grill? The others should be getting here soon."

Wilmington jumped up hastily, glad to change the subject. "Hell, yeah. I'm getting mighty hungry."

They moved into the house, careful to speak only of mundane matters. Emotions were too close on the surface for either man to deal with now. They missed the inquiring meow Miss Lily gave as Vin stirred beside her, sleepy blue eyes blinking open. He frowned, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He had been having the weirdest, goddamned dreams. Something about Bucklin and airplanes.

---

Vin scowled as a strand of hair tickled his nose, and reached clumsily up to scratch it, bumping his nose in the process. Startled, he silently examined the casts on both his wrists. Miss Lily purred loudly at the movement, and he cautiously touched fingertips to her soft, warm fur, smiling in recognition when she happily rubbed her cheek against his hand. This wasn't another dream.

He could hear Chris and Buck talking in the house. They had come for him, as he had known they would. He was safe at home, lying on the deck in the warm sunshine, not buried alive in Ella's dark steel box. He knew he would never have to worry about her again. Crazy bitch. Probably planted somewhere.

Yawning, he took sleepy inventory of his various hurts, frowning at the twinge in his bandaged ankle as he cautiously wiggled his toes. His thoughts were cloudy, his head felt cottony, like when he took cold medicine. He felt stiff, his skin was itchy and tingly all over, and he suspected that he was going to be really hungry soon. Oh well, he would eat after he finished his nap. One hand stroking his little cat, he yawned sleepily and dozed off again.

---

Peso was bored, bored, bored! He had played with his stolen bandanna until it was a shredded rag. He had frisked, bucked and run around the corral until he was dizzy. He had harassed his patient, long suffering mother until she had finally had enough and nipped his rump sharply. He missed Vin terribly, he had not seen him in weeks.

He nosed along the gate of the corral, watching curiously, with bright intelligent eyes, as the cars began to arrive up at the house. He raised his nose and sniffed the breeze, hoping to catch wind of Vin. Snorting with frustration, he nudged the sliding bar on the gate, vaguely remembering Francisco using it to open the corral this morning. To his surprise and gratification, the gate swung ajar. Squealing in triumph, he set out in search of adventure, trotting happily towards the house.

Buck had his back turned and was bent over, reaching into the depths of Rain's SUV to haul out the massive aluminum tub of potato salad as Peso trotted briskly past. JD, headphones in place, was fussing over his bike, bopping to the music as he checked the tires. He was sure he had hit a nail somewhere. Josiah, Rain and Nathan were huddled around the grill, backs to the house, confering on various sauces. The ribs weren't done, but Nathan wanted a hotdog NOW, he was starving.

Peso trotted up to the long, low redwood deck cautiously, slowing to carefully clop up the wide steps. He was delighted to discover Vin snoozing in the hammock and he happily snuffled the sleeping man's hair for a moment, before being distracted by a noise from inside the house. Miss Lily sat up and watched with interest as the colt clip-clopped over to the open sliding door and peeked curiously in. These human barns were different from his!

Sniffing cautiously, ears pricked, he entered the den, the thick, dark green carpet muffling his small hooves. He found a bowl of fruit on the coffee table in front of the sofa and helped himself to a juicy, ripe apple. In the kitchen, Ezra had just finished outfitting a heavy tray with chips, salsa, beer, sangria and margaritas. Carefully, he removed the apron protecting his pristine white linen shirt, and draped it over a chair. Down the hall, Larabee emerged from the bathroom, lazily scratching his lean belly.

Peso had just finished the apple and started on the grapes, when he stepped back and onto the TV remote lying on the floor. Larabee's big screen television blared to full, technicolor, surround-sound life, complete with ballgame and roaring, noisy crowd. Ezra Standish had the misfortune to emerge from the kitchen, heavily laden tray carefully balanced, just as the TV startled Peso into an equine conniption.

Whinnying in fright, he reared up in the astonished Southerner's face, causing the startled man to stumble backwards over the hall runner. Standish reeled wildly back into the kitchen, desperately trying to balance his tray. There was a resounding crash of furniture, glassware, and cursing Southerner. Larabee emerged from the hall, startled to find a live rodeo in his living room, as Peso squealed, sunfished, and bucked across the spacious room, wildly kicking up his heels.

The colt's back hooves connected squarely with the screen of Chris's expensive television, causing an impressive electronic boom, a bright flash and a colorful crackle of flying sparks. Whirling to run out the door, Peso sideswiped Larabee knocking him backwards over the ottoman. Charging full tilt out onto the deck, he was just in time to topple Buck and his tub of potato salad off the deck and into the bed of ornamental cacti that was planted beside the steps.

Buck's howl of outrage as his backside met the cactus spines, was muffled by the bowl of potato salad on his head. Josiah, big barbeque fork in hand, stood, mouth agape in astonishment at the sight. Nathan laughed so hard he choked on his hotdog and rolled backwards off the picnic table. Rain dove to the rescue, pounding his back. JD stared for a moment, doubled over with laughter, then pounded off in pursuit of the fleeing colt.

A cursing, salsa and sangria splattered Standish and a limping, scowling Larabee emerged from the house. Josiah chortled, then began to bray with laughter. His merriment was interrupted by a raucous CAW from directly overhead. That damned, dark-feathered imp of Satan was following him! Scowling, the big man looked up, just as his avian nemesis shat down. There was a warm splat between Sanchez' eyes, followed by a outraged bass bellow, as the big man lost his temper.

Charlie and Irene Truehorse emerged from their ancient 1937 Chevy truck in Larabee's drive, just as a brand new white Mercedes towncar pulled up beside them, dislodging Maude Standish Longbough Lowry Armaugh D'Poulinac Bellini. Startled, the two women regarded each other silently, automatically sizing each other up.

Maude was elegant and sleek in cool white linen, pearls and expensive Italian sandals, her pale hair coiled in a French twist. Irene wore her best traditional Navajo dress, a red satin blouse over a black velvet skirt, deerskin boots, and had her hair tied up with red cloth. She stood as solid as the earth. Charlie stood silently aside, knowing better than to step between two alpha females, facing off.

Maude smiled suddenly and politely extended her hand to Irene.

"You must be Mr. Tanner's mothah. How do you do, Ah am Maude Standish, Ezra's mothah."

Irene eyed her thoughtfully, then shook the manicured hand with her own calloused brown hand. "Dineh-ba-whoa-blehi," she responded politely.

Charlie's lips twitched, as he fought hard and maintained his Stoic Injun face. He doubted Ezra would appreciate Irene calling his mother a mantrap. He greeted the elegant Southern belle politely. As they started around the house they were all startled as Peso galloped past, JD Dunne in hot pursuit. The pair rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

There was an outraged equine squeal, followed by a human yelp, and the pair reappeared. Peso was now in pursuit of JD, big teeth snapping at the fleeing youth's buttocks. He would teach him to grab his tail! JD scrambled frantically to climb into a nearby tree, while Peso whickered triumphantly and circled below. Charlie chuckled and limped over to rescue the boy.

Maude and Irene continued on around the house.

The two women were startled by the loud boom-boom-boom of a large caliber handgun being fired in the backyard. Exchanging grim looks, they both hefted their handbags and hurried around back. Their sons were back there, and possibly in danger. Rounding the corner, they saw an astonishing scene.

A bellowing, scarlet-faced Josiah Sanchez was shooting wildly up with his .357 Magnum at a large, madly flapping crow, that careened and circled above the house. Rain and Nathan were huddled under the picnic table, and Buck's long legs emerged from under the deck, where he had taken refuge when the shooting started. Ezra was sprawled flat on the deck, hands over his head, and Chris had scooped Vin out of the hammock and was curled over him protectively, sheltering him with his body.

The two women exchanged one exasperated look, then stepped briskly forward. Irene stalked up behind the raving Sanchez, wound up, and whacked him once smartly on the back of the head with her enormous black purse. He dropped painfully to his knees with a startled squeak, cut off in mid bellow and she neatly plucked the big gun out of his hand as she stepped back. Before he could react, a stream of freezing cold water caught him in the face, as Maude coolly turned the garden hose on jet stream to hose him down.

Josiah subsided in a wet, sputtering heap, and everyone began to cautiously emerge from their makeshift shelters. The crow circled overhead once more, gave a final mocking caw, then flew leisurely away. Charlie limped around the house leading a placid Peso, followed by a wary JD. There was a muffled snicker from under the picnic table. Nathan had laughed so hard, he could barely move, not to mention nearly choked to death. Rain patted him absently on the back, shaking her dark head in exasperation.

Josiah gawked up at the vision in white that had nearly drowned him. She was as beautiful as an angel!

Irene gave a disgusted snort, recognizing a twitterpated male when she saw one. Tkele-cho-g. She carefully checked the contents of her handbag to make sure she hadn't cracked the thunder egg geode she had picked up. The 32 oz. plastic bottle of homemade cedar soap she had brought for Vin was undamaged. Hmmm. She slanted a covert look at the swelling lump on the back of Josiah's head. She had forgotten about the roll of quarters and the .38 special.

Charlie patted Peso, and surrepticiously slipped him a handful of plump raisins.

"You are a very bad horse."

Peso whinnied softly in agreement.

A cursing, salad splattered, needle-impaled Buck crawled out from under the deck. Ezra sat up, loudly bemoaning the state of his designer sport clothing. His brand new Versace shirt was ruined! Chris was swearing viciously; not only was his TV destroyed, but he now had a set of bullet holes in the side of his house! Sometimes it felt like he was riding herd on a goddamned circus! Maybe he would just shoot Josiah as well as that damned colt, and be done with it. He became aware that Vin was shaking beneath him, and alarmed, cradled him close.

"Goddammit Chris! If you don't shoot that damned horse, I will!"

Buck crawled painfully up the deck steps, potato salad dripping down his ears, a scowl on his handsome face. He was sure he had a variety of cactus needles in his ass that would rival the collection at the botanical gardens.

Larabee was startled by the hoarse drawl from his arms as Vin stopped laughing, and struggled to sit up. "That's my horse, Bucklin! You leave him be, or I'll kick your ass six ways ta Sunday!"

There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone realized Tanner was not only conscious, but alert and pissed off as well. Buck's eyes widened, then crinkled with pleasure, and he joyfully hollered back. "Hell, Junior, that ain't a horse, it's a rattler crossed with a hurricane! " he bellowed gleefully back at the irate Texan. "I'll be doing you a favor to put him down."

Vin snarled wordlessly and tried to squirm out of Chris's grasp, determined to crawl across the deck and punch Wilmington's lights out for insulting his beloved colt. Larabee grinned broadly as he held his partner back, and winked at Buck over the tousled head.

"Gonna kick your ass, Bucklin!"

"Hell, son, you do that, you'll just get your foot full of cactus spines!" Buck beamed at the younger man. They bickered back and forth loudly as everyone gathered happily around them.

Vin was flushed with anger, and he struggled weakly to escape Chris's determined grip.

At a worried gesture from Rain, Larabee stood, then bent and easily scooped his partner up and draped the cursing, struggling Texan over one shoulder and carried him into the house. Rain grabbed her medical bag and followed to check her patient over.

A swearing Vin shifted his attention from Buck to his lover."Gawdammit, Lar'bee, put me down! I ain't no danged baby!"

"Be still, Tanner, before I drop your scrawny ass!" Larabee snarled as he stalked down the hall to the master bedroom. He punctuated his command with a hard smack to the nearest buttock. An outraged Vin yelped, then vented a stream of profanity that questioned Chris's parentage back several generations.

Larabee's growl had masked the fierce happiness welling inside. Vin was awake and his usual ornery, stubborn self and that made Christopher Larabee a very happy man. Rain chuckled as Larabee unceremoniously dumped his lover on the big bed, then climbed on top of him when he immediately tried to pop right out again.

"Be still and let Rain check you out, you stubborn little shit! In case you haven't noticed yet, you were out of it for quite a while! The lights were on, but nobody was home!" Chris finally yanked the wiggling Texan firmly into his lap as Vin tried to roll off the side of the bed.

Vin scowled fiercely up at him, outraged at the manhandling. "I'm gonna kick yer ass AND Bucklin's!"

"Fine. Let's wait until you get the bandage off that ankle first, and Irene plucks all those cactus needles out of Buck's ass." Larabee replied calmly. "Now just calm down before you have a damned relapse, or do you want me to call Irene in here to settle you down?"

Vin snarled at the threat, but sullenly submitted to Rain's exam. He was silent and cooperative as she quickly checked his vitals. "Hmmm. Heartbeat and respiration are a bit fast, but that's no surprize. Do you think you can stop brawling and rest long enough to recover, or should I check you back into the hospital?"

"He'll be good." Larabee stated firmly, ignoring the heated glare Tanner shot him.

Rain raised a doubtful brow. "Hmmph. We'll see. She tilted his head up and peered into his eyes. Any dizziness? Headache? No?" She skillfully manipulated his limbs, carefully checking the broken wrists, and bandaged ankle. She flexed his ankle gently. Vin yelped. "Just a twinge? Okay. Everything looks good. I want you to stay off that ankle as much as possible. If you have to walk, lean on Chris or use crutches."

She briskly snapped her medical bag shut. "I'll schedule you a follow-up exam at the hospital tomorrow. Chris, he needs to be calm and quiet to heal. Let him sleep and eat as much as he wants. I want him to put that weight back on he lost." She frowned down at Vin and shook a slim finger under his nose. "Behave! No kicking asses or shooting people for at least a month! Don't make me sedate you! I'll use the big needle if I have to!"

Tanner flushed and mumbled a chagrined, "Yes Ma'am."

Rain snorted, winked at Larabee and left the bedroom, pointedly closing the door behind her.

Larabee swiftly took advantage of the situation and smoothly rolled his partner over, pinning him easily into the middle of the bed. Now for some quality time!

"Hello." He purred throatily and smirked down into a flushed, indignant face.

Vin's dark blue eyes widened under that predatory gaze. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "'Lo."

"About damned time!" Larabee growled, as the soul deep connection they shared flared hotly to life between them. When Tanner opened his mouth to reply, Larabee dove deep, taking the soft lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. Vin moaned, reached up to wrap his casted arms up around Chris's neck clumsily and return the kiss. Larabee abruptly broke it off, to hold him tight in a fierce, loving embrace. "I missed you, Kid." His voice was hoarse, his eyes bright.

"I been gone?" Vin's voice was puzzled, and a bit alarmed.

"You might say that. You were hurt pretty bad, but everything's gonna be okay now. I promise." Larabee soothed him tenderly, as he peppered soft, loving kisses over Vin's face. He was profoundly grateful when they were eagerly returned.

---

Later that evening, Chris and Vin swung lazily in the big mesh hammock under the twin oaks, watching the stars come out overhead. Chris had quietly caught Vin up on everything he had missed while he was comatose. Charlie and Irene had headed home, and Maude had left for Ezra's townhouse.

They could hear the others in the house, bickering amiably over the installment of the new TV set that Larabee had sent JD and Ezra into town to buy. He had even cheerfully reimbursed Ez for the loss of his new shirt, not to mention slipped down to the now padlocked corral to feed Peso more treats then were good for the little black devil.

Rain and Irene had spent a good half hour plucking cactus needles from Bucklin's ass with tweezers, as he sprawled glumly face down on a blanket on the deck, fortified with a glass of bourbon for anesthesia. It was quite a collection, ranging from tiny, hair thin needles, to impressive inch-long spines.

Tucked firmly into the hammock, Vin had watched the process with great satisfaction, happily devouring a heaping plate of food and smirking at every muffled ouch.

Buck had forcefully exacted a promise from Chris that he would put Josiah to work removing the cacti bed, and replace it with something less dangerous to a man's dignity. A penitent Sanchez had eagerly volunteered to landscape the area with roses. Larabee had graciously deigned not to shoot him.

Chris buried his nose in Vin's soft hair and breathed deep, more content then he could remember being in years. He planted a soft kiss on Tanner's cheek. "Love you, Kid."

"You getting mushy on me, Cowboy?" A full-bellied Vin sleepily rested his head on Chris's broad chest, content to listen to the strong thud of his heart.

Larabee smiled against Vin's hair. "Could be." He allowed.

"Must be gettin' old." Vin's voice was contemplative, and held a note of laughter.

"I'll show you old, boy!"

Vin squeaked, and flailed at the sudden ticklish assault on his person, and the big hammock swayed wildly for several minutes before Larabee became distracted by other things, and his hands began to roam.

"C-Chris!"

"What's the matter, Tanner, you never swung both ways before?"

---

The Saloon, Four Corners

Inez Receillos carefully adjusted the hang of the oversized photo over the bar. For years a painting of a smirking Mexican senorita wearing only a rose and carmine lipstick had hung there. Inez had decided it was time for something new. Ezra had been happy to help. She stepped back, head tilted, to survey her handiwork.

Carmelita and the band of rowdy women from the Harley Biker's club, there for Ladies' Night clapped, whistled and catcalled their approval. Ella's nude portrait of a youthful Chris Larabee had found a new home.

---

Janos, Mexico, Paulo Alvarez' Compound

Casey Wells logged off from the computer with a satisfied smirk. She turned to the man lounging lazily on the big, leather sofa with a bright smile. "He says it won't be long now. He has the combination to the safe and Larabee just stashed a lot of money there."

"That's my good girl. Come here."

Paulo Alvarez patted his knee invitingly, and smiled as a giggling Casey slid happily onto his lap. He slid a hand under the hem of her black lace chemise, between her legs and fondled her lazily, while she gasped and moaned. Stupid little puta. Give her enough drugs, promise her the moon, and she was foolish enough to believe he was in love with her. She would find out different after he had Larabee's cash in hand.

She was young and fresh-faced, with an all-American look popular on this side of the border. He was already taking bids on her lily white ass. He had been fortunate to find her turning tricks at the resort hotel. Either way, he was looking at a profit.

---

Rivera Ranch, Red Rock Butte

Jorge Rivera sat contemplatively in his rocker on the small patio overlooking the side garden, carved cane in hand. He was a thankful and happy man to have his beloved family home back. The evil woman who had stolen it from him was gone. He had been careful not to question Senor Larabee about her whereabouts. He had a suspicion it was in Hell.

From where he sat, he could smell the roses, and honeysuckle that entwined the gazebo. He remembered his mother planting them. The happy sounds of his grandchildren at play upstairs drifted down to the terrace. He tipped his head back, breathing deeply.

Ah, yes, the new lilac bushes were blooming beside the greenhouse. Lovely. It was a perfectly lovely night.

THE END

Vin eased slowly out of a sleeping Chris Larabee's arms. The full moon illuminated the bedroom with bright silver light. It had been a week since Vin had awoken from his dissociative state at the Sunday barbecue. During this time Larabee had exasperated the hell out of him. He alternated between treating Tanner like he was made of spun glass and pouncing on him and kissing him senseless. He had yet to fuck him, and Vin was getting a mite impatient.

Despite Vin's arguments, Chris had adamantly refused to penetrate his young lover until he was satisfied that he was fully recovered. He willingly used his mouth and hands to drive Vin wild but still denied him the joining he craved. Larabee stubbornly stuck to his own agenda of when he felt it would be safe to make love to Vin. His hesitation was driving Vin crazy in the process, and he was especially restless tonight.

Vin paused by the bed as he slid a pair of Larabee's worn black sweats up over his narrow hips. He admired his lean lover as he lay sleeping in the pool of moonlight. Chris's blond hair glinted silver, the pale strands veiled his closed eyes. His mouth was slightly open, revealing a glint of white teeth as he snored lightly. His long, lean body was sprawled nude on the white sheets, golden skin creamy in the moonlight.

As Vin watched, Chris stirred, scowling in his sleep, and groped across the wide bed. Grinning, Vin pushed his abandoned pillow into the sleeping man's arms and watched as Larabee pulled it close to his chest and buried his face in it, snuffling contentedly. Lightly he reached out to touch the top of the blond head. Lord, but his lover was a handsome man! Just looking at him made Tanner's mouth water.

Vin sighed softly and limping slightly, he padded barefoot down the hall to the den. He slid the glass door open and stepped out on the wide deck. The night was calling to him, the bright moon beckoning. He leaned against the rail, face lifted to the cool night breeze as he breathed the fragrant night air, and turned to watch the fat moon rise over the distant mountains.

A barn owl called softly across the valley. The breeze flicked his hair, teasing him gently. Nights like these he wished for wings to fly away on. He ghosted down the steps and headed for the barn, answering that tantilizing, sibilant call.

Inside the dark barn, fragrant with the scent of hay and horses, he eased silently down the aisle, gently patting inquiring equine noses as he passed. He paused between two stalls, momentarily indecisive. Pony or Paloma? His choice was made for him when the white Arabian mare eagerly nudged his hand, small ears pricked, beautiful doe eyes in the elegant, dished face alert, while a sleepy Pony grumpily turned his rump, ears flattened.

Vin hooked a lead rope on Paloma's halter and led her out of the barn. Her sleek, white hide gleamed like pearl in the moonlight. Once by the corral, he used a rail to climb up on her bare back, wincing when he put too much weight on his healing ankle. He would be damned glad when he got the awkward casts off his wrists as well. Comfortably astride, he leaned forward and clicked his tongue softly, gently nudging her flanks with his bare heels. The mare responded immediately, easing into a smooth lope down the dirt road towards the river that backed Larabee's property.

Out of sight of the house, Vin urged Paloma into a gallop, leaning forward, expertly using only his heels and the single lead rope to guide her. She responded happily, graceful as a gazelle, stretching into the wind, tail lifted like a white plume. Her hooves barely seemed to touch the earth as they thundered down the smooth track.

The moon illuminated the pale dirt road with a ribbon of incandescent light, showing the way, while the bordering oak trees cast dancing moonshadows across it. The wind lifted Vin's hair off his face, and he grinned in pure delight at the sensation of pure freedom of flight as he and Paloma headed for the river and the broad meadow that bordered it.

---

Chris woke with a Vin scented pillow crushed to his chest. Frowning, he sat up, one big hand groping across the mattress in search of warm skin. He found cooling sheets instead. He rolled out of bed and went in search of his elusive lover. Nude, he stepped out on the deck. A flicker of white caught the corner of his eye, and he was just in time to see the gleaming white horse disappear down the long, shadowed corridor of the tree lined road. He grinned. Paloma and Vin, roaming in the moonlit night. Irresistable. Turning, he slipped back into the house. He needed a few things before he set off in pursuit.

---

Vin sat lazily astride Paloma's back as she dipped her nose in the shallow, slow moving river to drink. They were near the middle, and the water was barely hock deep on the mare. Tanner watched the moon's face. The sky was the most beautiful shade of inky, cobalt blue. Head tilted dreamily back, he could almost count the craters, the sky was so clear. He was covered by a blanket of bright winking stars.

Paloma raised her head, and he guided her back into the lush, long grassed meadow. Here was magic too. The moonlight shimmered over the tall, creamy blossoms of Queen Anne's Lace, the yarrow, the pale cups of California poppies, and silvered the summer grasses. Vin could smell the heavy scent of the Datura, the tall Jimson Weed that grew near the edge of the trees. A fat moth intoxicated by the odor fluttered across the meadow. A dog fox yipped up on the ridge, and his vixen replied from across the valley.

He leaned back, palms against the mare's rump, lead looped loose across her neck so she could lower her head and graze and just let himself breath in the cool night. He had vague, dreamlike memories of having been cooped up for weeks, first in the hospital then at home. It felt good to feel the breeze against his skin and ruffling his cropped hair, to breathe in fresh night air. He felt free for the first time in weeks.

---

Chris Larabee pulled up beneath the live oaks at the end of the road, absently patting the glossy neck of the blood bay stallion he rode. The big horse snorted, jingled his bridle bits impatiently, eager to join Paloma in the moonlit meadow, but his rider was riveted by the sight of Vin on the pale mare under the moon.

The young man was leaning dreamily back on the placidly grazing mare's back, eyes on the moon. That same moon splashed him sweetly in a brilliant wash of light, silvered his hair and bare torso and made him luminous in the night. If it were a painting, Chris had a title: Vin in moonlight.

Larabee couldn't remember a more beautiful sight. It made him catch his breath in wordless delight. He kneed the bay forward, and they paced out from under the trees into the light. Vin turned his head, and unsurprised, silently watched their approach. Paloma raised her head, nickered a soft greeting, and the stud rumbled a throaty reply.

Larabee dismounted, swinging lightly out of the saddle. The only sounds were the creak of leather, the jingle of tack, the soft sounds the horses made. He slipped the bit from the stud's mouth so he could graze. Then he reached up and pulled the rough woven Mexican blanket roll and saddlebags off the back of the saddle. He walked over to drop them, and spread the blanket on a lush patch of vegetation on the riverbank. Then he turned back to his lover.

Vin tilted his head and watched his tall lover stalk silently across the grass towards him. A shiver of anticipation flickered up his spine. Chris was dressed in his customary black, and he appeared clothed in shadow tonight. Wordless, Larabee reached the white mare's side, and held his arms up to him.

Vin cocked his head as though considering his options, a tiny smile quirking the side of his mouth as he met Larabee's steady gaze. Chris merely arched a brow, arms up, and patiently waited. Vin nodded and reached down to brace his casted wrists on Chris's shoulders, sliding off the mare's back and down into his lover's arms. Chris caught his trim waist gently, setting him down easily on his feet, careful of his bandaged ankle.

Wordless, they held each other in a loose embrace, gazing into each other's eyes. Tanner's hands on Larabee's shoulders, Chris's hands at his waist. Slow smiles growing, along with a rising heat between them. Larabee leaned forward and delicately brushed Vin's mouth with his, tongue flicking out to taste. Vin placidly accepted the kiss, tilting his mouth up to meet Chris's. They stood together, lips and tongues lightly, lazily tangling in a slow, erotic dance.

There was no need to speak. This was not a night made for superfluous words. Their hearts spoke and their bodies sweetly replied, and that was all that was necessary. Larabee raised his head, releasing the lush lips slowly. He glared down at his young lover, silently chastising him for taking a midnight jaunt on an ankle that was supposed to be allowed time to heal. Vin smirked back in mute defiance. Feet were meant to be walked on.

Larabee's glare morphed into an evil smirk, and he surprised Vin by suddenly stooping, grabbing the younger man and swinging him up over his shoulder in a modified fireman's carry. Vin's dismayed yelp changed to a gasp as he felt Larabee's calloused hand tug the oversized sweatpants down, baring one pale ass cheek to the moon. Chris grinned, turned his head, and sank sharp teeth into firm, velvet flesh, following the sharp bite with a wet, lingering swipe of tongue.

Vin's gasp became a groan, and he jerked involuntarily as a hot tingle spread from his lovingly abused buttock to his groin. Before he could protest, Chris took two long strides and lowered him onto the spread blanket, immediately kneeling astride him to keep him pinned.

Pleased with himself, he leered down at his captive as he lazily blanketed the smaller man's body with his own. Tanner's fierce, defiant scowl dissolved into an expression of pure bliss when Larabee bent his head and went to work on neat brown nipples. He suckled and chewed leisurely, careful to divide his attention equally between the tiny buds, as Vin gasped and moaned softly, back arching involuntarily.

Tanner hissed in protest when Larabee lifted his head from his wet, tingling nipples, but Chris just gave a broad smirk and sat back to reach into the nearby saddlebags. One of them was filled with crushed ice, and Vin watched with interest as Chris withdrew a variety of intriguing objects.

A large baggie of mixed fruit, a small knife and a couple of plump, ripe peaches. A unlabeled, brown cork-stoppered bottle that he recognized as containing one of Irene's homemade liquors. A small bottle of liquid Silk lubricant emerged from the other bag.

Vin raised an eyebrow at the last and smirked up at his lover, who smirked right back and waggled his blond brows in his best imitation of Buck at his most lascivious. Chris lined his collection up on the blanket, then cheerfully reached over and yanked Vin's sweats down, leaving him bare-assed naked to the world. He cut off Tanner's outraged squeak at the manhandling with a deep, lingering kiss.

This time it was Larabee's turn to sigh as he raised his mouth reluctantly from his lover's soft lips. He smiled down into dazed, beautiful eyes as dark a blue as the evening sky. He pressed one hand gently on Vin's chest, a signal to stay flat, then reached for the cold, moisture beaded bottle. He uncorked it with strong, white teeth and spat the cork aside, winking at Vin as he took a deep swig.

Agate green eyes widened in appreciation as the complex flavors spread across his taste buds. He swallowed and smacked appreciative lips, then laughing eyes on Vin's indignant face, slowly ran his tongue along his lower lip. He watched as Vin's breath quickened, and his gaze fixed hungrily on Larabee's mouth.

Relenting at that look of open desire, he took another swig and bent down to share, delicately transfering his mouthful of liquor to Vin's in a tender kiss. Vin sighed in pleasure at the rich flavors. Hazelnuts, clover honey, vanilla, orange, a touch of lemon with the burn of brandy, and a unique tang of Larabee.

He slipped his tongue into Larabee's mouth, languidly searching out every drop, then he lapped delicately at Chris's full lower lip, paying loving attention to the divet there. They shared several enjoyable mouthfuls this way, the desire building between them. There was no hurry. They had all night.

Finally, Larabee raised his head, smiling, and set the bottle safely aside, tucked back in its nest of melting ice. He arched a blond brow, then slowly peeled his black tee over his head. Vin beamed his approval and reached out to tug open the tight black jeans and lower the zipper. Chris grinned and lightly smacked his eager hands away, ignoring the impending scowl.

Bending over, he lazily kissed his young lover out of his sulk, feasting on the lush mouth, nibbling along the beautifully chiseled jaw to suck on a soft earlobe. Vin sighed and reached to wind his arms around Larabee's neck, but Chris stymied him again, gently catching his wrists and pressing them back down on the blanket.

Licking his lips, Vin blinked questioningly up at the blond. Larabee gave him one of his rare, tender smiles, then reached over and opened the bag of fruit. He plucked a piece of ice from the saddlebag and gently ran it over his lover's swollen lips. Vin flicked his tongue over Larabee's fingers, eyes crinkling with pleasure as Chris's heated gaze focused on his mouth. Sultry eyes on Chris's, he sucked on the ice held between Larabee's thumb and forefinger, deliberately drawing them into the heat of his mouth as well.

Larabee gave a soft gasp, riding the sudden surge of arousal. He relinquished the ice and gently traced that full, lower lip with his wet thumb. Reaching into the bag, he withdrew a handful of berries. Smiling and winking down at Tanner, he lazily began to lay a trail of fresh, cool raspberries and blueberries down the center of Vin's chest.

Cobalt blue eyes laughed silently up at him, reflecting the twinkling stars above them. Fondly, Vin watched the intent look on the handsome face as the older man became absorbed in his task. Chris finished laying his line of berries as far as Tanner's navel, then carefully began to place juicy slices of strawberry at strategic points on Vin's anatomy.

The hollows of his throat, the notched collarbones, his nipples, and his navel were all anointed with the succulent fruit. Tongue in cheek, Chris tucked several slices in the coarse silk of Vin's pubic hair, encircling his proud, rosy prick. Teeth flashed in the moonlight as they exchanged wide grins. Vin shook with silent laughter, causing several berries to avalanche down his lean belly.

Chris popped the last slice of strawberry neatly into Vin's mouth and reached for a peach and the small paring knife. Tanner's brow arched in question as Chris solemnly sliced the ripe fruit in half. Larabee deftly quartered one half, disgarding the pit, and delicately fed the wet slices to his lover. Vin snacked his lips with pleasure, chewing and swallowing the sweet, juicy fruit happily. Fresh peaches were his favorite.

Tanner's soft hum of appreciation became a startled gasp when a big, calloused hand suddenly wrapped a handful of juicy, ripe peach flesh around his erection and began to squeeze and stroke, crushing the soft fruit and coating his stiff cock with pulp and juice. Vin moaned brokenly at the exquisite sensations, hips thrusting involuntarily up into Chris's hard palm as peach juice trickled wetly down his penis to pool in his pubic hair and dribble down between his thighs to coat his plump balls.

Wide eyes fixed on Larabee's smirking face, he gasped and clutched helplessly at his lover's arm, but Larabee growled a wordless warning, and he subsided, grabbing the blanket beneath him. Chris tossed the crushed peach half aside, and lazily lifted his wet hand to his mouth to lick the juice off a broad palm. Bright wicked eyes on Vin's flushed face, he deliberately placed both hands on Tanner's narrow hips and waited for him to catch his breath.

He gave his wide-eyed lover another wicked grin, then bent to the feast, bright eyes on Vin's flushed face. He nibbled strawberries from around the bobbing, rosy prick, big hands holding Vin's bucking hips still. He breathed in Vin's rich musk with pleasure, and lazily began to lap up the peach juice from Vin's skin, prying strong thighs apart and laving his velvet ball sac with lingering, wet strokes, but ignoring his twitching erection.

Slowly he worked his way up the line of berries on Tanner's belly and torso, pausing occasionally to chew and swallow the plump morsels, eyes twinkling at Vin's unfocused glare as he panted in growing arousal. He spent long minutes at Vin's navel, tonguing the tiny indention and nibbling tender belly skin.

Tanner's appreciative moans rose a notch as he moved on to wet, strawberry covered nipples, taking his time as he enjoyed the mixed melange of sweet, ripe fruit and salty skin. Vin's hands were knotted in the blanket. Head thrown back, eyes closed, he panted up at the moon.

Larabee finished the berries, sharing the last succulent strawberry with his lover, then gnawed leisurely along Vin's collarbones to suck hard at the hollow of his throat and deliberately leave a livid love bite there, marking his man. Vin moaned softly beneath him, and reached up to clutch at his shoulders, trying feebly to pry Chris's head away even as he surrendered his own throat and arched to Chris's teeth and tongue.

Chris laughed silently at the contradiction as he gently caught Vin's casted wrists and pressed them back down on the blanket. Grinning down at his trembling lover, he knelt back, then stood, ignoring Tanner's soft, wordless protest. Vin's eyes widened in appreciation and anticipation when Chris toed off his boots and lazily unzipped and shed his tight, black jeans, revealing the proud jut of an arrogant erection. He slid the pants down lean hips, then bent and pushed them far enough down to step out of, and kick aside.

Instead of rejoining his lover, he stood above him and teasingly ran one big hand down his long torso, to idly scratch his lean belly. White teeth gleamed again in his trademark leer, as he brazenly eyed the slim body of the young man lying at his feet. His own feet set wide apart, he slowly brought a hand down and began to lazily squeeze and pull at his heavy erection.

Vin glared blearily up at his tall tease of a partner. Gawddamned sonufabitchin' cowboy biker was driving him crazy! Well, two could play that game. He deliberately stretched, flaunting his lean body under that hot gaze. Lazily he spread arms and long legs and arched his back. Sultry indigo eyes on Larabee's face, he slowly ran his tongue over his lips, then snaked a hand down towards his own drooling, peach juice coated erection.

Larabee snarled and pounced. He knelt above his lover and slapped his hand away. Cupping Vin's rosy genitals in one big hand, he bent and lapped at the rosy head of his cock, licking away juice and pre cum from the foreskin with equal hunger. Delicious! Tanner gave a wordless cry and bucked helplessly into Larabee's hot mouth. Chris got down to the enjoyable business of milking Vin dry. He worked Tanner's thick, wet prick hungrily, sucking and squeezing with a quick, steady rhythm.

Unable to hold out, Vin arched his back helplessly and bucked hard as Larabee swallowed him to the root, then hummed. He came with a shout that startled the nearby, grazing horses into snorting and raising their heads. Chris released Vin's softening member, swallowed his salty prize, and licked his lips appreciatively. Before Vin could catch his breath, he leaned up and kissed him deeply, sharing his taste.

Without missing a beat, Larabee flipped the dazed Tanner over on his belly, spread his pale cheeks and dove in, using his slick, seeking tongue to wetly lave and open the tender, rosebud pucker. Vin gave a breathless, startled squeak, fingers clumsily gripping the blanket for dear life. He could feel himself start to tingle and arouse again. Damn. Larabee WAS trying to kill him!

Breathing hard, Vin opened his mouth to voice a protest, only to gasp again, when well-lubed fingers replaced Chris's tongue and began to stretch his tight hole wider. He yelped and sank his teeth in a fold of wool at the sensation. Chris chuckled evilly behind him as he prepared his young lover.

Unable to resist, he bent and again affectionately nipped a firm, velvet skinned ass cheek. Sweeter than any peach! Finally, he moved into position, holding narrow hips in a tight, implacable grip as he mounted and nudged his thick erection home.

He groaned with pleasure at the tight, velvet grip. Damn, but he had missed the sweet heat of Vin's body! He paused to savor that exquisite sensation, resting his weight on his lover's back, wrapping arms and legs around him in a full body hug and holding him tight. He mouthed the tender, salt-sweet nape of Vin's neck in a lazy display of pure dominance.

He began to thrust, a slow, steady fuck, taking his time, enjoying the wet slap of his heavy balls against Vin's, the wet heat of his body, the soft moans and sounds of pleasure his lover made beneath him. He savored the sleek feel of hot, sweaty skin, and quickened his pace as Vin cried out and pushed eagerly back, his furnace heat milking Larabee's hard length.

Vin moaned as his lover rode him lazily, taking his own sweet time about it, until Vin decided he had had enough and decided to speed things up a mite. He abruptly pushed back, enjoying the coarse, silk rasp of Chris's pubic hair against his ass and clamped down hard. Larabee gasped, and Vin grinned as the big, calloused hands gripping his hipbones suddenly tightened hard enough to bruise. Tanner gave a small, slithering, encouraging wiggle and arched beneath him. Chris groaned and began to thrust harder, pounding into his lover with enthusiasm.

Paloma raised her head, small ears pricked curiously at the odd sounds coming from the blanket on the riverbank. Moans, the slap of skin against skin, deep masculine grunts. The moonlight limed Larabee's broad shoulders and back as he rode his cowboy hard, the weeks of enforced celibacy eroding his control.

They reached their peak together, crying out harshly as Chris gave a bass grunt. His arms tightened around Vin, his right hand squeezed Vin's cock and he thrust in as deep as he could, hips jerking as his seed pulsed into his lover. Vin spurted over Larabee's wet, sticky hand. Panting, they collapsed together then rolled on their sides, still joined, their long legs entwined.

Slowly, their breathing evened out, and Chris slowly slid from Vin's body. He rolled over on his back, and Vin turned sluggishly in his arms to snuggle close, throw a long leg over Chris's hip and tuck his curly head under Larabee's chin. Tipping the square jaw up for a moment, Chris tenderly kissed his lover, savoring the soft swollen lips like a fine liquor.

Vin returned the kiss sleepily, then long lashes fluttered closed and he dropped off into a sated doze with a happy sigh, his breath moist and hot against Larabee's throat. The Texan's stamina was still strained from trauma and his long hospital stay. Snaking a long arm out, Chris grabbed a corner of the blanket and flipped it up to cover Vin's bare back.

Perfectly content to remain still until Vin woke, Larabee wrapped an arm around Vin's shoulders and held him close. He slid his free hand up under his blond head to pillow it. Yawning himself, he stretched his long legs leisurely, wiggling his toes. Smiling up at the starry night, he smirked smugly up at the beaming face of the moon. Mine.

THE END

Chris Larabee ducked a flying chair as he elbowed his way towards the packed bar. The Broken Spoke Saloon was packed asshole deep with the rowdy bikers who had made the yearly bike rally to Sturgis, South Dakota. Somewhere mixed in the melee of hooting, howling, drunken, partying men and women were his men. Through a gap in the wall of sweaty, tattooed, leather and denim clad bodies, he spotted a blue-eyed oasis seated at the bar.

He peeled off a clinging blonde mama who had reeled drunkenly into his arms, and dropped her neatly into the nearby lap of a hairy, dragon-tattooed Bandito who whooped with pleasure at his sudden good fortune. Chris nodded a greeting to two burly Iron Horsemen seated at the bar, nudged in to stand next to Vin, draped an arm over the younger man's shoulders and smiled down into midnight blue eyes.

"Hey, Cowboy."

Vin pushed a full shot glass over to Larabee, who downed the fiery liquor in one gulp. He gasped, eyes watering.

"Goddamn."

Vin smirked at his lover's accusing glare.

"Just a gutwarmer, Cowboy," he said mildly.

"Tastes more like raw battery acid."

"Could be," Vin replied amiably, sharp blue eyes serene as he gazed out over the boisterous crowd. He idly tapped his own empty glass against the scarred oak surface of the bar, the dark blue cast on his right wrist a vivid contrast against the stained blond wood. Chris dropped his eyes to this reminder of Ella Gaines' viciousness, and shivered as he felt a chill slither up his spine. Skinwalker, Vin would call it.

Vin was due in a week or so to have both casts removed, and he was impatient as hell about it, hating with a passion any restriction of movement. Chris had caught him with his knife just last week sawing away patiently at one cast, and had taken the blade away and distracted him with deep, hot kisses to take his mind off the itch.

Still, Chris was secretly glad that wearing them had forced Tanner to ride behind him on the run up to Sturgis. He had enjoyed the feel of that lean body snug and safe against his back. He kept Vin close these days. He had come too damned close to losing his young lover to a madwoman's obsession, and if his blatant possessiveness caused Vin to occasionally shoot him exasperated looks, so be it.

He scanned the room looking for the others and quickly spotted Buck standing at the end of the bar with his arm around a curvy redhead with truly amazing cleavage. She was standing on tiptoe trying to speak into the tall man's ear through the noise, one hand toying with his belt buckle. Chris noted that while he appeared to be attentive, his stare was riveted over her head on a sleek, dark head in a far corner.

Raphael had shown up two days before they left for the rally with a sparkling new bike and a beautiful woman on the back to match. Maria had stuck to the handsome Latino like glue since, seeming to never leave his side. Now, for instance, she was seated in Rafe's lap wearing a bright red halter top and a tiny black skirt, both their dark heads close as they talked. As Chris watched, she tilted Raphael's head and kissed him deeply, small hand cupping his face. Buck turned back to his own woman, handsome face impassive.

Larabee gave an exasperated snort. He didn't know the exact cause of Buck and Rafe's quarrel, but he wished to hell they would stop dancing around each other like lovesick teenagers and talk it out. Buck had been mooning like a lost puppy before Rafe's return, despite his harem of devoted females. He spotted Nathan and JD seated at a table along the wall with some members of the Rock Machine and the Kings. He frowned, vaguely remembering Nate mentioning a cousin in the African-American Kings. Ezra he knew, was cloistered at a high stakes poker game at a nearby private residence.

He had just bent his head to ask Vin if he knew where Josiah was, when a commotion and a familiar outraged bass bellow reached his ears. Shit. A flying, flailing body nearly landed on the elk antler chandelier, then crashed onto a pool table. The crowd parted as the big man came careening through like a demented dervish. Sanchez had a gasping man tucked under each brawny arm in tight headlocks, one clinging like a monkey to his broad shoulders, and appeared to be stomping the shit out of a fourth. They all wore Mongol colors. Larabee swore softly. The Diaz brothers. Trust Josiah to start his own mini gang war!

"...nuns having sex," Vin said.

Larabee shook his head, convinced his hearing was off, or he was finally losing his mind.

"What!" He said loudly, leaning in closer to catch Tanner's reply.

"I SAID, reckon old Juanito done told that nuns having sex joke once too often!" Vin replied, exasperated.

Chris swore again. If it was one thing that Josiah revered it was nuns. Any nuns. Nuns were sacred to Sanchez. That mildly racy joke would be all that would be all it took to send the big ex-priest into a towering rage. No one insulted Josiah Sanchez's beloved nuns! Now it was now a matter of making sure he didn't kill any of his hapless victims.

The crowd was no help, everyone was either joining in the fight or cheering it on. The Mongol's warlord, Ramirez, shouldered in next to Vin, a scowl on his scarred face. Chris stood alertly beside Tanner, his trigger finger starting to itch, but the man's frown was already changing to a broad grin at whatever Vin was saying. Ramirez threw back his head and laughed, gave Tanner a friendly thump on the shoulder and Larabee a respectful nod before pushing his way back into the crowd towards the corner where his own jefe stood.

Chris watched as the man spoke into Bartolo Diaz' ear. A broad, white grin split the jefe's swarthy face, and he laughed aloud. He met Chris's alert gaze across the room, and nodded in a friendly fashion. When Larabee quirked a questioning brow towards the whirling, Diaz covered Sanchez, he received a negligent wave from Bartolo. The message was clear, let them fight it out. There would be no bad blood between the Dark Angels and the Mongols as a result.

Looking down the bar, Chris met Buck and Nathan's questioning, alert gazes. As he watched, Raphael shouldered quietly in to back them up, and he and Buck exchanged a speaking look. Behind them, JD Dunne was wide-eyed and bouncing with barely repressed excitement. At Chris's signal they relaxed slightly and turned their attention back to Sanchez. Chris shook his head and turned back to Vin.

"That must be one hell of a joke!"

Tanner gave an easy shrug, and grinned his familiar crooked grin up at Chris, blue eyes crinkled with amusement. Larabee had a sudden blinding hot urge to lick the smirk off that lush mouth, and tangle his fingers in Vin's hair. He glanced around. Everyone's attention was on Josiah and the Diaz brothers. Why the hell not? He turned back to Vin with a feral grin of his own that had Tanner straightening uneasily from his relaxed slouch against the bar, eyes widening with alarm. Too damned late.

Larabee wrapped an arm around Vin's trim waist, heaved up slightly, and had the younger man off the bar stool and hustled out the back door before he could protest. Chris was pleased to see that the back alley was empty except for the lines of bikes parked along the walls. He pushed Vin back into the shadowed corner where the loading dock met the back door, and went to work uncovering skin, ignoring Tanner's outraged protests.

"Gawddammit, Lar'bee, no! It's broad daylight!"

Chris glanced absently in the direction of the setting sun. "Not quite," he replied, hands and mouth busy against warm, silky skin. He could hear the crowds of people passing on the nearby sidewalks; tiny Sturgis was overrun with bikers this time of year. He had just nuzzled behind Vin's right ear when a sharp prick beneath his chin brought his head up sharply. Slowly he lifted his head to look into a set of arctic blue eyes.

"I SAID no. Seems to me, even a stupid man could understand one word." Tanner pressed a little harder on the blade at Larabee's throat, and Chris swallowed hard at the tiny stinging pain, followed by a slight trickle of blood down his neck.

He stared into those narrowed blue eyes trying to read them. Before he could open his mouth, Tanner continued. "Reckon you need ta be taught a lesson." The Texan's voice was a low, husky purr that made Chris's hair, as well as his dick stand up. Tanner leaned forward, knotted his free hand in Larabee's hair and tilted his head back. Chris shivered as a warm, wet tongue lapped daintily at the blood on his throat.

That husky voice growled into his ear, "Take your belt off," and he damned new broke a thumb in his haste to obey.

Vin kept the cold blade against the side of Chris's neck as he lazily lapped at the small wound, then latched on and sucked hard, wringing a hungry groan out of Larabee. A lean hand snaked down and grabbed the heavy leather belt the second it slipped free of its loops. He gasped in surprise when Tanner slid it around his throat and slipped the tongue through the buckle, forming a makeshift leash.

Vin pulled the loop tight enough up under his chin so that Chris could feel it, then resumed his work on Larabee's throat. This time he sank strong white teeth in, and bit down hard enough to make Larabee hiss in pain. Smoldering blue eyes lifted to his, and Vin licked his lips slowly, seemingly savoring the taste of Larabee's blood. Chris swallowed hard. He had never been so hard in his life.

"On your knees." The command was emphasized with a sharp tug of the belt, and Chris obeyed instantly, wincing as his knees hit concrete, eyes riveted on Vin's.

"You want this?" The razor sharp tip of the blade dipped down and lazily traced the length of the zipper on Tanner's worn jeans.

"Hell, yeah!"

"Unzip me. Slow." Chris's leash tightened a notch as warning. He reached to obey, palms sweaty and heart pounding. Cautiously, he rubbed his jaw against the bulge in the soft denim, inhaling the heady aroma of leather, cedar, sweat and pure Vin musk. Vin reached down and delicately traced the knife tip along the curve of Chris's jaw, scraping the golden bristles.

"Ya ain't nothing but a slut, Larabee."

Chris flashed him a white grin in agreement. Slowly, mouth watering in anticipation, Chris tugged the brass zipper down. Tanner's thick cock jutted up to meet his lips, tenting his briefs. Vin spread his legs slightly to allow Chris better access, and gave the belt an encouraging tug.

Larabee didn't need to be told twice. He reached up eagerly to free Tanner from his clothing, only to have his head cuffed smartly for his pains.

"Nope. Hands off. Mouth only."

Chris obliged, with a hungry moan of frustration nuzzling into Vin's crotch eagerly. There was a tiny wet spot forming on the warm cotton and he mouthed it hungrily, nursing hard on the fat cock head through the damp cloth. Vin gave a soft grunt and bucked his lean hips, pushing his erection deeper in Larabee's mouth. Chris gave a muffled growl and tugged Tanner's briefs down with his teeth, to slurp Vin's jutting cock deep into his throat.

Tanneer gritted his teeth, and threw his head back in pure pleasure at the sensation of hot, wet heat on his flesh. He fought the urge to thrust hard into Larabee's throat. He wanted to torment his arrogant lover as long as possible. He reached down with his knife hand and stroked the back of his knuckles across Larabee's jaw in a rough caress. Wicked green eyes flicked up to his face, and Larabee deliberately began to suckle harder, blond head bobbing between Tanner's thighs.

Vin gave a warning growl and tugged the belt, yanking Chris off his prize. White teeth flashed as he warned,

"Use lots of spit, Cowboy, it's all the lube yer gettin'."

Larabee's eyes widened and he obeyed, laving Tanner's hot, swollen cock with saliva, slurping wetly and noisily. Vin's eye's slitted with pleasure as he rocked back on his heels, but he manfully fought the need to climax in that hot, sweet mouth. He planned on planting his seed in that lean ass instead. He enjoyed Chris's expert fellatio for a few more moments, then again used the belt to tug him off.

"Up," he ordered curtly.

Chris had no more regained his feet one hand wiping his wet mouth, knowing better than to protest the loss of the musky taste of that thick prick, before he found himself roughly tipped over the wide leather seat of a nearby Harley. Tanner deftly sheathed his knife in his right boot and reached under Larabee to unzip his tight jeans, and yank them down. Larabee yelped as a booted foot roughly kicked his feet apart.

When Chris made a protesting noise, he silenced the blond with a hard slap to the pale ass.

"Shouldn't wear them britches so damned tight without drawers and get your boys caught in the zipper, Lar'bee."

Any reply Larabee might have made was muffled by the thick groan he gave as Tanner spread his ass cheeks and roughly began to finger open his tight hole. He writhed shamelessly, bracing himself against the bike's chrome muffler, and pushed back on Vin's wet fingers, trying to fuck himself on the long digits. He got another wordless snarl, and the tormenting hand was withdrawn long enough to deliver another stinging slap to his ass in warning.

He stilled obediently, breathing hard, his face flushed from the blood rushing to his head due to his position. He groaned again as Vin slowly began to finger him again, loosening the tight ring of muscle and probing deeper. Larabee's throbbing prick was smashed against the metal studded leather seat of the hog, and he bucked his slim hips, shamelessly seeking to hump against the slick leather and bring himself off.

Tanner stymied that plan by suddenly mounting Larabee and snapping his lean hips forward hard, ramming his thick cock head between Chris's cheeks, abruptly breaching the tight ring of muscle. One hard hand planted between Chris's shoulder blades still held the belt and kept the man in position, as Vin Tanner began to fuck his lover hard, giving him no chance to catch either his breath or his balance.

Larabee threw his head up, handsome face set in a rictus of pained pleasure as his body responded to the rough, almost dry fucking, and bucked helplessly back, seeking to bury that hard cock deeper. The makeshift leash around his throat, the heat, musky scent and sheer power of the lithe body covering him and driving deep inside, combined to nearly drive him insane with pleasure. Gutteral sounds of pure animal lust filled the alley, the slap of skin against skin, heavy panting, and the harsh grunts and moans of two men fucking.

Chris bucked hard beneath his lover, fighting the leash for his pleasure, and Tanner dropped the belt in favor of wrapping both arms around Larabee's slim waist and holding on tight as he rode his man, muscular buttocks pumping hard. His compact weight kept the taller blond securely pinned, and he took deep pleasure in balling his man nearly senseless. He was determined that Chris would come before he did.

He succeeded. Larabee gave a muffled cry as he shot, hot strings of pearly spunk anointing the black leather seat, his hole tightening convulsively around Vin's thick cock, milking him like a hot velvet glove. Tanner gave a deep bass grunt, and rammed in to the root, grinding against Chris's silky ass, his heavy balls slapping hard against Larabee's furry sac as he shot his load deep in his lover's hot bowels.

Panting for breath, he stayed joined to Chris, resting on the broad back for a few minutes before slowly dismounting, allowing his softening member to slip gently from Larabee's ass. He huffed a deep breath and gave Larabee's rosy behind a fond pat before tugging up the tight black jeans. Larabee straightened with a satisfied groan, stretching the kinks out of his spine and smirking down at the cum splattered bike seat.

He turned and pulled Vin into his arms, kissing him gently on the mouth. Tanner gently removed his belt from Chris's neck, then stood still while Larabee lazily looped it back around his waist and carefully tucked him in, zipped and buckled him up. Chris cupped Vin's soft groin with one possessive hand, and gave him a deep, appreciative kiss.

Tanner returned the pleasure, tugging the tight jeans snugly up over the narrow hips and making sure his lover's soft genitals were tucked safely away before drawing the heavy zipper up. They stood embracing against the brick wall for several minutes, exchanging wet, languid kisses as their breathing evened out and they slowly regained their composure.

Chris's arm around Vin's shoulders, they headed back into the bar. Both men were flushed with satisfaction, with swollen mouths and heavy-lidded eyes, their movements slow and languid. Larabee smiled down into Vin's face.

"Reckon we better round up the boys and head back to the motel before 'Siah ends up in jail. I'm more in the mood for supper and a nap before the concert tonight, than bailing his ass out."

Tanner gave him a knowing grin.

"You just want to get gone before ol' Bartolo figures out who done left his calling card on the seat of his hog."

"That too!"

Larabee gave his partner an evil white grin and they pushed their way back into the Broken Spoke. As the heavy steel door closed behind them, Larabee smirked and said,

"Thought you said no?"

"Changed my mind."

Laughing together, they pushed their way towards the busy bar to grab one for the road before rounding up the boys.

THE END