Molding Clay (15 page)

manifested into something dangerous.

“Clay, wait.”

He turned back to her.

“If…if something happens. Something we didn’t count on, then I—”

“I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt you,” he proclaimed.

Rusty knew he meant what he said. What she could not say to him was that her

fears were not that something would hurt her, but that ill might befall him.

“I know,” she assured him. “But humor me, okay. If something should happen,

something out of the ordinary and you find yourself backed into a corner or

outnumbered, then I need you to remember this.
Aeris accendo asporto
.”

“What?”

“Just say it.
Aeris accendo asporto
.”

“
Aeris accendo asporto
,” he stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar words.

“Again,” she said.

“
Aeris accendo asporto
. I got it.”

“Don’t forget. Please, Clay. This is important. Promise me you’ll remember.”

“I promise,” he said and took her hand to lay it over his heart.

“Okay.” She gave him a smile, but as they got out of the truck she wove a quick

memory charm on him to help him remember if the need arose.

They entered the bar and made their way through the crowd to a table near the

crowded dance floor. Rusty spotted Davy at the bar but didn’t see his brothers.

Stella, who worked as a waitress at the bar, approached their table. Rusty plastered

a bright smile on her face. “Well hey, Stella. Long time. Oh my goodness, is that a

diamond on your finger? Girl, I didn’t know you were engaged! Who’s the lucky guy?”

Stella smiled wanly. “Hey, Rusty. Looks like I ain’t the only one with a new man in

my life. This must be the Russell fella I been hearing so much about.”

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She turned her attention to Clay. “Stella Stevens at your service, cowboy.”

Clay turned the full force of his charm on, smiling up at her from beneath the brim

of his hat. “Well now, that sounds plumb inviting, darlin’. Clay Russell’s the name, but

my close friends call me Breaker.”

“Well now, I just got to know the reason for that name,” Stella flirted right back,

ignoring Rusty completely.

Rusty wasn’t finding it difficult to look miffed. Even though she knew it was an act,

she wanted to snatch Stella bald and drag Clay out of the bar by the scruff of his neck.

Damn him, did he have to be so freaking good at his role?

“Well now, darlin’,” he was saying, tipping his hat back to pin Stella with his eyes.

“I got me that nickname on the PBR. Seems I just break those bulls’ balls every time I

get on one.”

Stella giggled and leaned down with one hand on the table. “Hard rider, are you,

handsome?”

“Long and hard, sugar. Ain’t no other way.” His accent was becoming thicker by

the moment, making Rusty want to kick him under the table.

“Whooo! You gonna have me break into a sweat any minute,” Stella said in a husky

voice, leaning a little closer so that her breasts threatened to spill out of the low-cut red

top that clung to her curves like a second skin.

“Well, darlin’, I’d sure like to see that, but this lil’ ol’ gal here just might start to

spittin’ if I don’t pay her a little attention—seeing as we’re partners and all. Why don’t

you bring me a tall cold one, and when you get a break maybe we can see if we can

work up a sweat on the dance floor?”

“You got it, stud. What’s your brand of poison?”

“Whatever you got on tap is fine, honey.”

Stella grinned then grimaced as Rusty cleared her throat loudly. “Yeah, Russ,

what’ll you have?”

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“Tequila. Straight up. No, make that a bottle,” she added as Stella started to move

away. “Tab’s on Russell here.”

Clay scowled. “I think we already had this discussion. No more tequila.”

“You’re my partner, Russell. Not my keeper,” Rusty sniped. “Now you gonna buy

me a drink or do I need to sit elsewhere?”

“Fine,” Clay spat and looked at Stella. “Bring her a damn bottle.”

Stella walked off and Rusty leaned a little closer. “You don’t have to turn it on all at

once, Mr. Russell.”

“Jealous, darlin’?” he teased.

“Just don’t lose yourself in the role.”

Clay chuckled then assumed a scowl as Stella hurried back across the bar toward

them. “Here ya go, handsome,” she cooed as she placed the beer in front of Clay, and

then plunked a bottle of cheap tequila down on the table with a shot glass. “Russ.”

Rusty saw an opening and took it. “I don’t want this cheap rotgut. Bring me a bottle

of Patron. Silver.”

She cut Clay a look, hoping he would catch on and join in. He was quick and

immediately assumed his role. “Look here, I offered to buy you a goddamn bottle. If

you think I’m paying fifty bucks—”

“Eighty,” Stella cut in.

“Eighty bucks for a bottle of booze so you can get liquored up and act like a slut

then you got another think coming, missy!”

“Fine!” Rusty jumped to her feet. “Then drink alone, Russell.”

People were watching and talking as she flounced over to the bar and scanned it for

a free space. Davy scooted to one side and motioned to her. Rusty stomped over to the

bar.

“Thanks,” she growled to Davy and leaned over the bar, yelling at the bartender,

“Mitch! Hey, Mitch! Can I get a shot of Patron down here?”

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“Coming up, Russ,” he yelled back.

“And one for my friend.” She jerked her thumb at Davy.

She turned and stared angrily across the bar to where Clay sat at his table, Stella

leaning down over him, looking for all the world like she was trying to scoop him up in

her cleavage.

“Here ya go,” the bartender said as he set the shots down in front of her.

Rusty turned, slid one glass over to Davy and lifted another for herself. “Here’s to

getting rid of fucking high-handed, dime-store cowboys who think their rich daddies

can buy them whatever they want and to hell with the rest of us.”

She clinked her glass to Davy’s then tossed back the shot. He raised his eyebrows in

surprise then downed the shot. Rusty grabbed the full glass on the bar, at the same time

yelling for the bartender. “Hey, Mitch, just bring me a bottle.”

“And put it on Russell’s tab,” she added with a smirk at Davy. “So…” She tossed

back her second shot, blew out a breath and leaned on the bar. “How’s it hanging,

Davy? Been a long time. Where you been keeping yourself?”

“Actually, I’ve been busy,” he replied. “And engaged.”

“Engaged? To who?”

“Stella.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Rusty cut her eyes over to Clay and Stella. “Well then, lil’ bro, you might wanna

remind her of that. When I left, her and Russell were already talking dirty and getting

ready to start in on more.”

Davy shrugged. “Fuck her. She can’t be faithful, she can go to hell.”

“There you go!” Rusty slapped him on the back. “Wish it was that easy for me to

get shed of Russell. Damn man’s enough to drive a woman to drink.”

She lifted the bottle the bartender had placed in front of her. “Which reminds me.

How ’bout another one?”

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“Sure,” Davy replied, still a bit standoffish and suspicious of her sudden friendly

manner.

Rusty grinned, sure the cogs in his brain were churning. “So how about a dance,

Davy? As I remember it, you always could cut a rug.”

“Why not,” he replied and threw back his shot. “Whooo, that packs a whollop,

don’t it?”

Rusty laughed and took his hand to loop his arm across the top of her shoulders.

The band was starting up with an old Wynonna song as they reached the dance floor,

the lead singer belting it out in a pretty good facsimile of the original.

Rusty shook her ass, shimmied and strutted, twirling this way and that, making the

short flirty skirt she wore twirl out around the tops of her thighs. “Come on, honey,

don’t be shy, we’s family,” she slurred her words as she grabbed Davy and pulled him

up close, grinding against him.

A moment later she knew she’d scored. All of his hesitation and suspicion

vanished. His hands grasped her roughly, pulling her against him so she could feel his

erection pushing at the front of his jeans.

Rusty wanted to gag. Instead she batted her lashes at him and smiled sexily. “Well

well, looks like Davy’s all grown up.”

“More’n you can imagine,” he said in her ear and followed it up by plunging his

tongue as far down her ear canal as possible.

Her fists tightened on the shoulders of his shirt and she shuddered in revulsion.

Which he mistook for a shiver of desire. “Like that, baby? I got lots more.”

“I bet you do.” She pulled back from him, wanting nothing more than to sand the

skin off her ear. “What say we find us a table and finish that bottle of Russell’s booze

and talk about it?”

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Davy grinned and grabbed her arm to pull her off the dance floor. Rusty saw Clay

cut his eyes at her as they passed. She stuck out her tongue at him, already wondering if

maybe she shouldn’t help the alcohol along and cast a little spell on Davy.

Clay watched Rusty and the little slimeball make their way toward the back of the

bar. Now was as good a time as any to make his move. Pushing his chair back, he stood

and scanned the crowd.

Stella spotted him from the bar and hurried over to the bartender. As Clay made his

way toward the bar, he watched her hold a heated discussion with the bartender. The

man finally threw up his hands. Stella gave him a kiss on the cheek, grabbed a bottle

and hurried to catch Clay as he made for the door.

He pretended not to hear her as he pushed his way to the door and stepped outside.

The cool night air was a welcome relief to the stench of alcohol and too many colognes

and perfumes wafting off hot and sweating bodies.

He took a deep breath but turned his head and she stepped up behind him. “Hey,

sexy. Where you running off to?”

“Just getting a breath of fresh air, darlin’. You finished for the night?”

“That depends. What you got in mind?”

Clay looked down at the bottle in her hand then let his eyes slide up her body the

way he’d done hundreds of other women. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized

how shallow he’d been. Rusty had changed him, made him see how empty his life had

been before her.

For a moment shame made him hesitant. He was about to put the same moves on

Stella he’d used on countless others, with no thought as to what consequences his

actions would spawn.

But this time was different. At least he hoped it was. If Rusty was right, then Stella

knew what Davy was up to and was willingly acting as his alibi. If that was so, then she

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was as guilty for the trouble visited against Blackhawk Ranch as the Stikeleathers and

did not deserve his pity.

“What say we take a ride and find some place quiet we can talk,” he suggested with

a sexy smile.

Stella hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the bar, then tossed her hair and

plastered a smile on her face. “Sounds like a plan.”

As they got into the truck, Clay said a silent prayer that he wasn’t leaving Rusty to

deal with something she couldn’t handle.

Inside the bar, Rusty poured another shot for Davy. He’d consumed nearly half the

bottle. While he was tossing his shot back, she quickly dumped the contents of her own

glass onto the floor and then lifted the glass to her lips.

“Wooo hooo!” she cheered drunkenly. “Damn, much more of that and I’m gonna be

officially shit-faced.”

“Me too,” he slurred in genuine inebriation then reached out to take her hand. “So,

Rusty, you were telling me about that slicker Russell. He giving you a hard time, huh?”

“He’s a bastard!” she hissed. “Bossing me around, telling me how to run my ranch,

how to train my horses. I tell you what, Danny, if it wasn’t for all this trouble I think I

could get shed of him, but it’s been one thing after another since the day he stepped foot

on my land.”

“Well, I might just be able to help you out,” he boasted.

“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when your family helps me

out. Come on, Davy, you and me both know they hate the ground I walk on. Why,

you’re the only one of the whole goddamn bunch that ever treated me like I was worth

a shit.”

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“They ain’t ’xactly fond’a you,” he agreed. “And truth is, they can be a surly bunch.

But you know I always liked you, Russ. I thought maybe after Danny died, well, that

maybe me and you…”

“Ah Davy. Really?” she cooed, thinking how much she’d like to scratch his eyes

out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? All this time I’ve been out there all alone, wondering

if I’d be able to hang onto the ranch. If I’d ever find another man to love.”

“You can. Russ, you can. I can help you.”

“How? Until we catch the assholes responsible for all the trouble, Russell is glued to

the saddle. If I could just get things back to normal and stop all this trouble then I could

convince him and his family that I don’t need him to oversee things. I could hire my

own foreman and get Blackhawk back on its feet.”

“You leave that to me,” he assured her and poured himself another drink.