Molding Clay (6 page)

aggression as it was given.

Clay’s dick throbbed uncomfortably to full erection in his jeans, straining at the

denim that constrained him. His hands tightened on Rusty, pulled her closer even

though she was already plastered up against him.

“Well, I mighta figur’d.” The sound of a male voice beside the booth had both of

them pulling away from one another.

Rusty looked around Clay to see her ex-father-in-law, Davis Stikeleather, leering

down at her.

“Girl, I done told you I ain’t puttin’ up with your whorin’!” Davis tried to reach

around Clay to grab hold of Rusty.

Rusty raised her fist to belt him but before she could act Clay was on his feet with

one big hand wrapped around Davis’ scrawny neck, lifting him up off the floor. The bar

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was as silent as a tomb as Clay jerked Davis up close to his face and spoke in a deadly

calm voice.

“I don’t know who you are, and don’t care, but let me set you straight on

something, mister. No one talks to Miz Blackhawk like that in my presence. Now why

don’t you find your manners and apologize to the lady.”

Davis wheezed out a laugh, trying to break Clay’s grip with both hands but having

no luck. “Damn whore is what she is.”

Clay literally growled a moment before he cocked his arm then catapulted Davis.

People at the table nearest them were treated to a dose of Davis hitting their table on his

skinny butt and sliding clean off the table to land in a heap on the floor.

About the time Davis hit the floor, two men rushed at Clay, Davis’ sons Dennis and

Donny. As Dennis neared Clay, Rusty came out of the booth and delivered a solid

roundhouse. His head snapped back even as his body tried to continue forward.

“You fucking cunt!” Donny yelled and fought to get around Dennis who was

floundering around trying to get steady on his feet.

Clay whirled around, kicked Dennis, who was beginning to recover his balance, in

the gut, sending him slamming into Donny and the both of them crashed to the floor.

Both men were cursing and yelling, fighting with one another to get to their feet. By

that time, Davis was hanging onto a table, trying to get his legs to support him. Melvin,

the owner of the grille, was yelling to his son Jarrod who was already in motion toward

the ruckus.

Clay stuck out his foot and pushed Dennis back down on top of Donny as Dennis

tried to rise. Jarrod barreled in with a baseball bat gripped in one ham-hock-sized hand.

“Break it up!” he bellowed.

Rusty jumped in front of Jarrod. “They started it, J. Davis came in mouthing off

and—”

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“Damn straight,” a man at a nearby table spoke up, earning a loud expletive from

Davis. “Davis and his boys started it.”

A chorus of voices chimed in, adding weight to the man’s claim. Clay turned to

look at Rusty. It was clear that no one in the bar was going to let her take the heat. It

was just as clear that the man called Davis and the men with him were not well liked.

Jarrod looked down at Rusty. “He hurt you, Russ?”

She put her hand on the big man’s arm. “No. I’m fine, J. But it sure would be nice to

be able to eat in peace without this trash stinking up the place.”

“You got it,” Jarrod said with a grin. He turned, gave Dennis a thump on the head

with the bat. “Get your old man and get outta here, boys. Less’n you want me to call the

law.”

Dennis was as mad as a wet-setting hen. That was plain from his red face and the

veins standing out on his neck. But he backed down. “Come on,” he said to his father

and then shoved at his brother behind him.

“You ain’t heared the last of this, bitch!” Davis spat at Rusty as he hobbled over to

his boys.

“Yeah, whatever,” Rusty replied and turned to slide back into the booth.

Clay waited until the men had been escorted outside by the giant with the ball bat,

and then reclaimed his seat. “Things always so exciting when you’re around, Miz

Blackhawk?”

Rusty grimaced and reached for her beer. Clay reached over and stayed her hand.

“What’s the deal with those yahoos?”

“Long story,” she replied, not meeting his eyes. Now that the ruckus had passed,

her mind was revisiting the vision she’d had, and the kiss. God, what a kiss.

“I got time,” Clay’s voice cut into her thoughts.

Rusty cut her eyes at him. “Ana didn’t tell you?”

“Hell, Ana didn’t even tell me you were a woman.”

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Rusty chuckled despite herself. “Yeah well, that was pretty funny.”

Clay grinned and took a drink of his beer. “Guess so. But no changing the subject.

What’s the story?”

Rusty sighed and propped her elbows and forearms on the table between them.

“Short version. I made a mistake. Got drunk, got pregnant and married Danny

Stikeleather, Davis’ son. Danny turned out to be a drunk. When I was three months

along, he got mad because I told him to get out, that I didn’t need a no-good drunk to

take care of. We were outside by the barn. I turned my back on him and he grabbed a

shovel and clocked me. I don’t remember much of what happened after that except a lot

of pain. I woke up in a hospital, beat all to hell and no longer pregnant. That same night

Danny got rip-roaring drunk and drove his truck down the side of Sweetwater gully

and was killed.”

She paused, took a sip of beer and looked at Clay. “That’s when his family tried to

move in on me. Davis decided I needed to marry one of his other sons. I told him to go

to hell and ever since we’ve been at war.”

Clay felt almost sick to his stomach. Rusty had told the story in a flat, emotionless

tone, but he’d seen the look in her eyes. That son-of-a-bitch had nearly killed her and

she’d had no one to turn to when those vultures descended on her.

But that wasn’t the case now. Now Clay was in the picture and his mind was made

up that it would be one bitter cold day in hell before he’d let any of the Stikeleathers

hurt her again.

“Had your share of trouble, haven’t you?” he asked gently.

Rusty gave him a rueful smile. “Well, you know how the old saying goes. Into each

life a little rain must fall.”

Clay returned the smile and reached out to put his hand over hers on the table.

“The rainy days are over.”

“That right, Mr. Russell?” she asked.

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“That’s a promise, Miz Blackhawk,” he said and gave her hand a squeeze. Rusty

tried not to let hope swell that the promise meant anything. She tried to shove the

memory of the kiss into the back of her mind, to not recall the near overwhelming

feelings it invoked. To shield herself she fell back on tried-and-true tactics. She kept it

light and teasing.

“Well, I won’t hold it against you if you’re wrong.”

“Does that mean you’ll hold it against me if I’m right?”

Rusty smiled at the sexy tease in his voice. “You’re a bad one, Mr. Russell.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Fancy.”

At that moment Deanna arrived with their meals. She set Clay’s plate down in front

of him then placed two platters down in front of Rusty. Clay looked from his plate to

the mountains of vegetables on the platters in front of her. “Good god, woman, who do

you think you’re feeding? She isn’t as big as a minute. No way in hell she’ll make a dent

in that.”

Deanna laughed, and even though it brought a flush to her face, so did Rusty.

Deanna patted Clay on the shoulder. “It’s clear you don’t know our Rusty. You need

anything just yell.”

Clay’s eyes moved from Deanna to the mountain of food and then to Rusty. “You

eat half of that and I’ll run around the barn naked singing the national anthem.”

“Make that ‘Beer for my Horses’ and you’re on,” she said with a grin.

“Deal,” he said and stuck out his hand.

Rusty accepted his hand. “Looks like I’m gonna get a show with dinner tonight. Dig

in, cowboy.”

Clay shook his head and picked up her fork for her. “Ladies first.”

Rusty grinned, took the fork and dug in.

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Chapter Six

Davy hid a smile as his father bitched and moaned about the way he and his sons

were treated in the bar.

“Fucking cunt!” Donny snarled into his beer. “Thinks she’s so goddamn high and

mighty. Where the fuck’s she get the idea she’s better’n us?

Davy reached over and patted his brother on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, bro.

We’re gonna fix her good.”

“Yeah, we oughta go snatch her,” Dennis slurred. “Bring her back here and fuck the

shit outta her.”

“Beat the shit outta her,” Davis added. “A week’r two of that oughta see her ready

to do things our way.”

“Can I fuck her up the ass?” Donny asked. “Goddamn she has a nice ass. I’d just

love to stick my dick up her ass to her eyeballs.”

“Good as that sounds, I don’t think that’ll get us what we want,” Davy argued.

“Says who?” Dennis demanded angrily.

“Says me,” Davy replied without anger. It did no good at all to challenge any of his

brothers in anger. That just led to raised fists. Davy had learned a long time ago to use

his brains as his most effective weapons. “Look, bro. We all know that when it comes to

strength, you and Donny got it in spades. You could lick any man in this county with

one hand. Now I ain’t got much of that, but what God denied me in size he made up for

in brains.”

“Well, yeah, that is the God’s honest truth,” Davis agreed. “You ain’t much in size,

boy, but you got one helluva big brain in that head.”

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“Exactly,” Davy said with a smile. “And I got me a real good idea of how we’re

gonna get exactly what we want from Rusty Blackhawk.”

“Yeah?” Donny looked at him with eyes that were darn near rolling from

drunkenness. “How we gonna do that, Davy? That plan a’yurn to burn her out watin’

worth a shit.”

“Only because you and Dennis didn’t follow instructions,” Davy reminded him.

“But I got another idea. One that’s sure-fire guaranteed to fix that whore’s ass good and

proper and get us control of the ranch.”

“Just what kinda plan?” his father asked.

“Well, it’s like this,” Davy said with a grin and started to explain. “Starting tonight

we’re gonna go at things a little different…”

* * * * *

Clay cut his eyes over at Rusty as she stared out of the window into the darkness,

humming along with the song on the radio. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes he’d

never have believed it. Not only did Rusty clean both platters of food but she ordered a

wedge of sweet potato pie on top of it.

“It’s a wonder you’re not a butterball,” he commented. “You eat like that all the

time?”

Rusty laughed and turned to look at him. “I have a high metabolism.”

“High? Hell, it’d have to be supersonic.”

“Yep, and so is my anticipation at tonight’s big show,” she teased.

He cut his eyes at her. “That was just a joke.”

“Joke hell,” she argued. “We shook on it. A deal’s a deal, Mr. Russell.”

“Honey, if you want to see me naked, I’ll be more than happy to accommodate

you.”

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She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. She would definitely like for Clay Russell

to accommodate her, in myriad ways, but she was certain that a sexual experience with

him would end up with her losing herself to the emotions that were already stronger

than they should be.

It frustrated, annoyed and frightened her. Rusty had never been in love. Men had

come and gone before Danny, and until she met Clay she figured that would be the

shape of things for her. She’d go about her life without a man until the need got too

great and then she’d find a cowboy, have a one-night stand and then go back to her life.

Now, thanks to Clay Russell, that seemed like an empty, lonely life, and one she

had no desire to live.

She snuck a look at him. Her vision had provided a wealth of information about

him and his past. Maybe that was part of the problem. Now she saw past the gorgeous

exterior into the man inside. And what she saw attracted her as much as the packaging.

Damn it all to hell and back, what was she going to do? A voice in her mind

provided the answer.
Stop analyzing everything. Relax and let your destiny unfold as it

should.

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the window. Suddenly

everything was different. Before Clay had walked into her life, she’d been able to just go

with the flow, to ride easy in the saddle of life, taking what came and dealing with what

needed to be dealt with. Why was she letting him change everything?

She needed some time alone to think. Once they were home, she’d find Koda and

take to the woods. A long hike in the moonlight would clear her mind and give her

perspective on the situation.

With a plan in mind, she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Within a couple of minutes she was sound asleep.

Clay looked over at Rusty. In sleep her features were relaxed and soft, making her

look like a young girl. There were so many facets to this woman. She could go from

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being as tough as a man, with almost the same thinking patterns, to being a world-class