Read Online Longarm and the Arapaho Hellcats by Tabor Evans - Free Book Online Page A

Cynthia’s head to the pistol the man pressed against her breast.
    Longarm’s heartbeat quickened as the man slackened his gun hand. The pistol began to slide down off Cynthia’s chest.
    The man groaned.
    The other two men rose from their logs near the fire and turned toward their partner and Cynthia. They were silent, ­dark-­eyed, staring.
    The gun slid down off Cynthia’s chest, the barrel now aimed at the ground. Just as Longarm was beginning to rise from behind his covering log, the man near Cynthia let out a loud, shrill wail.
    â€œOh, you bitch!” he screamed, jerking the gun up.
    Before he could get the gun raised to Cynthia’s head, Longarm snapped his Winchester to his shoulder, planted a quick bead on the man’s chest, and fired.
    The man stumbled backward, howling, dropping his revolver and falling flat on his back, quivering and clamping both hands over his crotch.
    The other two men shouted and jerked toward Longarm, dropping their cups with tinny thuds. One grabbed for the pistols on his hips while the other reached for a Colt’s revolver rifle leaning against the log on which he’d been sitting.
    Longarm’s Winchester crashed, spitting smoke and orange flames.
    The would-be rapist with the pistols dropped both weapons in the dust as one slug tore through his sternum, causing his shirt to billow, while a second slug punched into his left cheekbone. He spun around and dropped to both knees beside an aspen, as though in prayer.
    The other man had spun around as he grabbed his Colt revolving rifle and spun around again as he raised the rifle in his hands, sort of crouching over it and yelling, his face a mask of rage. He triggered one shot toward Longarm, who’d sidestepped to his left, and the slug went whistling off into the night before plunking into a tree.
    Longarm fired three more rounds, triggering and levering the leaping, roaring Winchester, until the man with the Colt’s rifle had tumbled off into the darkness beyond the fire, howling like a ­gut-­shot lobo.
    The man’s screams were ­short-­lived, as were those of the other two. As silence moved in over the clearing, Longarm lowered the Winchester and ran over to Cynthia, who lay staring up at him, her mouth open, eyes glazed in shock. Longarm set his rifle down and knelt beside the girl, ripping his folding barlow knife from the front right pocket of his tweed trousers.
    â€œGood Christ, girl!”
    â€œCustis.”
    â€œI’ll have you free in just a second!”
    As he leaned over her to cut through the rope tying her left wrist to the stake embedded in the ground, she said, slightly louder, “Custis, wait.”
    He stopped, hovering over her. He looked down at her. She stared up at him. Her mouth was open, and she was breathing slowly, heavily. Her eyes looked strange. Darker than usual. Deeper than usual. There was silent pleading in them.
    â€œDon’t,” she said from deep in her throat.
    Longarm bored his gaze into hers. He lowered his eyes to her parted lips. They trailed down to her breasts. The orbs rose and fell more and more sharply, the nipples distended.
    Longarm felt a heaviness in his pants, a fire in his loins. He slid his gaze down past her expanding and contracting belly to the tuft of black hair between her spread thighs. It glistened in the orange light of the fire’s dancing flames.
    Longarm raised his gaze to hers. Her eyes were subtly, desperately pleading.
    She swallowed.
    â€œNo,” he said weakly.
    She stared up at him with that deep, dark urgency. She slid her gaze to his swollen crotch, and her eyes widened, her jaws hardening.
    Longarm stood, kicked out of his boots and gun rig, and shucked out of his clothes, tossing them carelessly aside. His heart hammered. His blood stormed through his veins. Cynthia stared at his swollen, jutting cock as he hunkered down between her spread knees.
    She laughed almost savagely as he