Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 11)

I could live with that. It would hurt. It felt as if someone had shot me in the chest and I was able to survive even while slowly bleeding. But they would be safe. Whole. I wouldn’t see them or any of my new friends at Bridgewater harmed.

Barton Finch wanted me to help him rob a bank. I’d do that. That didn’t mean I’d help him get away. I wanted him behind bars like Father and Travis. I wanted him to face the judge for his crimes. I wanted him to hang for them. I’d see to it, even if it meant my demise as well. It was the only way I’d ensure those at Bridgewater would remain safe, that no other innocent people in the Territory would be robbed or terrorized or hurt. Or live and mourn after the death of an innocent loved one like Hank.

Barton Finch might rob a bank, but he was going to fucking jail.

CHARLIE

I’D BEEN AN IDIOT. Falling for a woman on sight. And a woman dressed like a man. That should have been my first warning. But no. My cock wanted her. My head wanted her. My heart, well, it fucking wanted her. And now it was crushed. I felt like a pussy being so devastated by a mere woman. A mere woman I’d only known for two days.

Fuck.

But this wasn’t a woman I bedded for the night, or even for the hour. I was no virgin, nor had I been a monk. From England to Mohamir to America, I’d had my fair share of pussy. Grace was different. Oh, she had the sweetest, tightest, most perfect pussy ever. But that wasn’t it. I wanted more from her than just temporary pleasure.

I wanted forever. Grace was mine.

She had my ring on her finger. Hank’s, too.

And we were hunting her down just as we had the Grove gang the other day. For being a fucking outlaw.

And yet, it was our job, our honor, to protect her. It was the way of those in Mohamir to cherish their wife. The reason for two men to claim a woman together was for her, to ensure she would be seen to if something happened to one of her men. The wife was the center of the family, the heart. Without someone guarding and watching out for her, it could be ruined.

It went against every bit of my personal honor to go after her like this. Robbing banks, even from the wrong side, was dangerous. She could be hurt, killed holding up the place, especially after the string of robberies. The tellers were on guard and nervous they would be next. Surely, they were armed and waiting.

We had to get to Grace before she got hurt. I’d protect her, then find out what the fuck was going on. She didn’t need a noose about her neck, she needed a trip over my knee and a serious spanking. It had been beautiful to watch her give over to us, and she’d do it again, but this time, we’d have the truth. We wouldn’t wait for it, we wouldn’t assume we had the rest of our lives.

We’d asked her why she shot the Grove men. She’d said she’d been passing through and hadn’t wanted to see us hurt. But where had she been and where had she been headed? Why hadn’t she killed them? She could have, just tilting her gun slightly would have finished both men in an instant. Why the fuck did she wear pants?

So many questions unanswered. We should have asked them, but hadn’t.

I spurred my horse to a faster gallop. I needed to know it all. I needed to know the truth.

GRACE

I’D NEVER ROBBED a bank before. Even after living with Father and my brothers my whole life, I didn’t even know how. That was why I was surprised Barton Finch wanted me along. His plan was to get in, get the money and get out. Get gone. He thought me a woman stuck under his control, that he could blackmail me into being his new partner in crime. I had to admit, he had plenty to hold over me.

Because I was a Grove, he considered me to be something I was not. I wasn’t ruthless. I wasn’t mean. I might have an infamous surname, but I was one no longer. The second I shot Father and Travis, I’d been done with them. I’d been ready to strike out on my own. Survive without them. Knowing they’d been caught and were no longer hurting people or wreaking havoc on the Montana Territory, I had been set free.

But then my heart had been caught in a snare so well hidden, I hadn’t even known I’d been trapped. I’d been caught by love and that was something Barton Finch would never understand. His threat to kill those at Bridgewater, to hurt Charlie and Hank, was enough to bring me here, and I was willing to sacrifice myself so they could be safe.

What he didn’t realize was that I wanted him gone. Wanted him caught. Captured. Hanged. Because if he’d tried to rape me, he’d surely done it to another woman in the past and would do it again. A man like him never changed.

I’d sacrifice myself for my husbands and newfound friends, but I’d take him down with me.

And so I’d played the role of exactly what he thought I was: a weak, simpleminded female.

I’d gone into the Carver City bank and stood there holding my gun and tried to look threatening. I was in my usual uniform of Travis’ worn pants and shirt. I’d even found the binding for my breasts and wrapped them snuggly. My hair, back in the long braid, was tucked up under my hat. I didn’t look much like a man, but I definitely didn’t look like a lady.

Luckily, there were only the teller and the manager in the building when we entered. Carver City wasn’t as big as the name implied. Most people in the area bartered or didn’t have enough money to warrant a bank, instead stuck it in a coffee tin or beneath their mattress. But, there were some rich ranchers in the area, or those who needed loans.

Barton Finch entered the bank full of piss and vinegar, shouting and waving his gun about to incite fear. I didn’t point my weapon at anyone, but high up toward the ceiling. To Barton, who was at the counter and focused on the money the teller was shoving in a bag, I was doing my job. He’d told me I was to shoot anyone who entered or anyone who, as he’d said, even breathed funny. The only person I wanted to shoot was him and up until he waved the gun in the teller’s face, he hadn’t done anything wrong in the eyes of the law.

No one knew who he was or that he’d been part of the Grove gang. A third man was known and wanted, but not his name. If I’d shot him in cold blood, I’d have felt justice had been served. But then I’d have been the guilty one. A murderer. I had to ensure he was caught red-handed. And that was why we were standing in the bank robbing it.

A shot rang out. I jumped, startled out of my thoughts.

“I told you no weapons!” Barton Finch shouted, grabbing the gun the teller had pulled from beneath the counter. “Do it again and it’ll be your head I aim for.”

The teller had turned a ghastly shade of white and shoved the money into the bag with more haste, his entire body shaking.