XI.
“So they really mean to rob a train?” Rafael asked as they settled around the campfire that evening. “That’s ambitious, even for Mason Bone.”
They’d untied Mrs. Sabot, given her Enoch’s pain hexes, and then high-tailed it out of there before she could release any of the brothers who might be inclined to revenge. Rafael kept a lookout from above for anyone following them, but it seemed the Sabot clan had decided not to push their luck any further. While they traveled, Enoch gave Rafael the basics of what Sabot told him.
Enoch tended the horse, while Rafael built a small campfire and heated some frijoles and tortillas. Cowboy fare, but it would keep their bellies full. Coyotes yipped and called in the distance. The sky stretched velvety black overhead. Enoch drew a deep breath of the night air that smelled of mesquite and the smoke of their fire.
“That’s what Sabot said, and I don’t see why he’d lie. Sending me to chase my tail would only bring me back on his ma later.” Enoch left the horse and sat down by Rafael.
“When and where is this train they mean to rob?” Rafael passed Enoch a tortilla.
“Tomorrow is the when, and the one o’clock train from Bitterwood to Resurrection Ridge is the where. According to Sabot, it’s carrying the payroll for the silver mine in Resurrection Ridge. Tens of thousands of dollars.”
“That’s a lot of money.” Rafael frowned. “It’ll be in a safe, behind both hexes and locks. They must have some kind of plan.”
“Or a man on the inside, the way they did with the bank.” When Rafael looked away quickly, Enoch winced. “I’m sorry. You said he was a friend.”
“He was.” Rafael sighed. “Just a naïve young man who thought the life he had was too constrictive. I’m sure working with outlaws sounded very glamorous to him.”
Something about the wistfulness in his tone made Enoch ask, “Were you…?”
“Sí.”
No wonder Rafael had been willing to bond in order to get revenge. “I’m sorry.”
Rafael shrugged, a ripple of graceful movement. “So am I. You were talking about the train.”
“Right. According to Sabot, they’ll board the train in Bitterwood. They’ll all be disguised as ordinary travelers.”
A frown creased Rafael’s handsome face. “And then what?”
“I assume they’ll wait until they’re between stations to make their move. Sabot didn’t seem clear on the details.” Enoch finished off his dinner and licked his fingers. “By that time, he was coughing up a fair amount of blood. I don’t know if he was clear on very much of anything other than drowning in his own fluids.”
“Hell of a way to go.”
“True enough.” Enoch hesitated. The firelight gilded Rafael’s handsome face, flames reflected in his burnt umber eyes. “With every robbery, you risk going the same.”
Rafael let out a soft snort. “Are you going to talk me into abandoning my wicked ways?”
“No sense in not trying, so long as I’ve got your attention.”
Rafael leaned back, stretching out long, denim-clad legs. “What about you? Chasing down hardened criminals isn’t exactly conducive to a long life.”
“I suppose not.” Enoch stretched out as well, so their legs almost, but not quite, touched. The stars burned above them, too many to count. An owl hooted a mournful note, then fell silent. “My brother is a cowboy, and my sisters married cowboys. One of them teaches at a school, while she waits for him to come back from the trail.”
“Not the life for you?” Rafael shifted his leg, so his ankle pressed against Enoch’s. “The cowboy part, I mean.”
Enoch’s heart began to beat faster. The heat of the day had vanished with the sun, the air crisp and cool everywhere except where Rafael touched him. “No. Herding cattle, working a ranch, day after day…and no one is going to promote a black man to foreman, so the best I could hope for was someday running the chuck wagon. So I took the test for witch potential and scored high. There aren’t many immediate jobs for a witch with no familiar, so I signed on with the US Marshals. The pay is nice, and I get to travel and meet people.” He turned his head to look at Rafael. “I met you.”
A challenging little smile played across Rafael’s lips. “Is that a good thing, brujo?”
“It’s had its moments,” Enoch allowed. “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve spent too much time talking, and not enough time doing other things we might.”
Rafael’s eyes gleamed wicked and hot in the firelight. There’d been something between them from the moment they’d met, when the familiar hadn’t hesitated to look Enoch up and down. Still.
“What about the teller the gang killed?” Enoch asked. He didn’t want to take advantage of a grieving man.
Rafael wound strong fingers in Enoch’s coat, tugging him closer. “It wasn’t like this.”
“And what is this?”
“Loco,” Rafael said, and kissed him.
Rafael tasted of smoke and beans. Enoch returned the kiss with interest, rolling onto his side and throwing an arm over Rafael. The bandit’s long thighs pressed against Enoch’s, and his black hair felt like silk when Enoch slid his fingers into it.
“Spread out the bedrolls, before things get too far along,” Rafael suggested when they broke apart. His orange-brown eyes almost glowed in the firelight, desire darkening his cheeks.
Enoch nodded mutely. They spread out their blankets beside each other, on the softest bit of ground they could find, before coming together again. Rafael kissed him, deep and hungry, his fingers tightening on Enoch’s shoulders. “Been wanting to do this since I met you,” the familiar murmured. “How’s the arm?”
“A touch sore, but nothing too bad. Just don’t knock the bandage loose and it’ll be fine.” Enoch pulled away, long enough to tug his boots off. Rafael did the same; then they both reached for one another, fumbling with buttons, laughing at their own clumsiness. Enoch fanned his hands over Rafael’s flanks, skin warm beneath his fingers. He bent his head to one dark brown nipple. Rafael gasped, back arching at the scrape of teeth over sensitive flesh. The dusty scent of feathers rose from his heated body. Enoch breathed deep.
Rafael pulled away and shucked off his trousers. Enoch did the same, but paused to look at Rafael. “You’re a sight,” he said admiringly. The firelight gilded Rafael’s copper-brown skin, a play of light and shadow outlining every curve of muscle and bone. His cock jutted out from the dark nest of curls, as if asking to be sucked. Enoch meant to oblige.
“You’re not so bad yoursel—oh!” Rafael’s words cut off when Enoch wrapped his mouth around his prick. Rafael tasted good, sweat and musk and a bitter tang. Enoch closed his eyes and set himself to work, teasing the veins with his tongue, nearly letting the head slip from his lips, then sliding down again. Rafael swore, a long stream of Spanish loosed into the cold night air.
With one last lick, Enoch left off and stretched out by Rafael. “Tell me what you want, querido,” Rafael said, rolling toward him. Their pricks rubbed together, sending a swell of pleasure along Enoch’s nerves.
“Been a while since I had a good buggering.” Enoch ran his hand along Rafael’s cock. “Feel like giving me one?”
Rafael grinned. “Oh, I do indeed. Let me get the oil.”
Enoch lay back and pulled his legs up. Excitement made every inch of skin feel incredibly sensitive: he was aware of the chilly air nipping at his toes, the slight scratchiness of the blanket. Rafael returned, then bent over, kissing Enoch’s chest, trailing down his belly, to give a long teasing lick to his cock. Enoch tightened his hands in the blankets. “Want you,” he panted.
And maybe it was stupid to sleep with a bandit, even one he was working with. No matter what happened with the Bone Gang tomorrow, Enoch had already decided he’d return Rafael’s warrant. Some other ranger could chase him down, but Enoch couldn’t bring himself to turn in the man who had helped him so selflessly.
“I want you, too,” Rafael murmured. His heated gaze scraped over Enoch again. Then he poured oil over his fingers and pressed one to Enoch’s passage.
It had been too long; he’d missed this so much. He didn’t bother to suppress a groan as Rafael twisted and pressed, adding more fingers and sending sparks of pleasure racing through Enoch’s cock.
Then the fingers were gone, replaced by the blunt head of Rafael’s prick, hard and insistent against him. Enoch breathed out, struggling to relax as Rafael pushed his way inside.
“Dios,” Rafael gasped. He paused for a moment, buried deep and obviously struggling for control. “What you do to me.”
He began to move again, long, slow strokes. Enoch watched his face avidly, hand on his own aching prick. Sweat glistened on Rafael’s shoulders, his plump lips parted, hungry. His fingers gripped Enoch’s hips with almost bruising strength, and he began to move faster, harder.
“Yes,” Enoch said with a groan. Each thrust sent new waves of pleasure through him, and he stroked his cock in time. “Hell, Rafael, I’m going to come.”
“Do it,” Rafael ordered, his voice husky. “I want to see—”
Enoch shuddered, body clenching as ecstasy broke over him like a shattering wave. Rafael let out a hoarse cry, like a hawk’s, burying himself deep with a snap of the hips as he tumbled over the edge of his own climax.
The silence of the desert night returned, broken only by the distant coyotes, the hiss of wind over sand, and their own rough breaths. Rafael collapsed beside him, flinging an arm over Enoch’s chest. Enoch pulled him close; they kissed a few times, softly now.
“That was good,” Rafael said after a little while. “We’re good. Together, I mean.”
“Better than good,” Enoch replied. But Rafael’s words reminded him there was no together. Not for long, at any rate. Not after they stopped—or failed to stop—the Bone Gang.
After that, Rafael would disappear back into the desert once again. Except this time, he’d take a piece of Enoch’s heart with him.