Savage 11 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: pulp fiction, peter brandvold, the old west, western ebooks, william w johnstone, wild west action, piccadilly publishing westerns, best western ebboks
Publisher: Piccadilly

Chapter Six – Hightailin’ Time

BY DAYLIGHT, THERE was no mistaking The Fort for anything other than what it was. But after sundown, it was recognizable only as a huge, man-made structure in a land where all else was created by nature. It might have been a hacienda or the headquarters of a sprawling ranch or a bank or an opera house.

Three men prowled the catwalks. Two more paced the yards below.

The men in the yard were both Chinese, and they kept a discreet distance from the cell. Nu Lin had arranged for her countrymen to guard the yard, and now she was arranging something else, rolling Savage onto his back and climbing onto the narrow bunk with him.

Sure, it was dangerous as wrestling rattlesnakes, but did Clint Savage care about that?

“More,” he muttered, and Nu Lin obliged.

He was losing track of where he was. Nu Lin was taking him on a trip that cut him loose of all sober restraint. No wonder Markham wanted her to follow him. Savage might want to take her with him himself, if only he had succeeded in making her single again.

Finally they were content, and they lay together, waiting for the beat of their hearts to slow. He stroked her hair. She nibbled his neck. It was perfect and timeless and not even the soft pacing of sentries’ feet intruded until Savage broke the silence.

“Okay, honey, what is it?”

Nu Lin stared up at him.

“What is what?”

“Whatever it is you want. You didn’t go to all this trouble just to show me how it’s done in Shanghai, did you?”

The woman sprang to her feet, feigning hurt and outrage. Savage looked up at her, wondering if he had ever seen a more perfect set—not big but perfect as ripe peaches. It might have been an inappropriate time to reach for them, but reach he did. Nu Lin covered his big hands with her tiny ones. She did not try to push him away.

“All right,” she whispered. “I did desire you, but you are right. I want more than that. I want you to take me away with you.”

It was seldom that Savage found himself wishing that a lovely, sex-starved female would put some clothes on, but now he had to think.

He forced himself to turn his back and reach for the cigars. He lit one and sighed. Ahh, that was better.

“Away?” he asked. “You mean we make a run for it?”

“I have a gun. I have already made arrangements for later tonight, if you agree to do this. The guards in the yard will pretend to shoot, but they will miss.”

She went to the silken heap of clothes on the floor, and he heard the soft chink of metal as she held up a set of keys. “These open the pumphouse gate. All we need are horses, and a little luck when the catwalk guards open fire.”

She knelt on the bed behind him and he felt those creamy breasts flatten against his big hard back.

Savage reached for his clothes.

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