An Outlaw's Weakness*Fifth in Crane Gang series*

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Preston wasn't sure how he'd ended up in this situation. He'd simply wanted to try his hand at the poker table. That had led to a group of men making rude comments and threats... then those men had grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out the back door of the saloon. Not a single person had offered any help or resistance.

Preston was terrified. Five dirty, big-bodied men were shoving him back and forth between them threatening to beat him, kill him, rape him.... Why?

He tried to slip between them but the biggest of them grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him backward. Preston could feel his lungs beginning to struggle. If he didn't get away from these men and calm down, he was going to be thrown into an attack. Either way, he might die tonight.

They began shoving him again. Preston's world spun and he couldn't seem to make sense of it. All he saw were sweat stained shirts as he was banged off them. He smelled their sweat, the beer and whiskey they'd indulged in.

Tears were forming in his eyes and Preston struggled to hold them back. "Let me go!" he yelled, struggling against one of the men who had suddenly grabbed him and pulled him close to his body.

Preston gagged at the smell and then again when he felt something hard in the man's pants pressing against him. "Yeah, he's a nice tiny thing. I'm gonna enjoy shoving my cock in this one."

Preston's struggles increased then. He became a wild animal, crazed and desperate for escape. He slapped, he clawed, he yelled and still that man held him.

The more he fought, the harder it became to breathe. Preston didn't care. He'd rather die of a breathing attack than let this man do what he was wanting to do.

"I suggest you gentleman do as that man says and let him go."

Preston stilled as his head whipped around toward this new voice. Instantly he recognized the man as the one who had kept him from falling on his face as he'd been on his way to the poker table. He remembered the man because the sight of his face had stolen Preston's breath.

The man's eyes met his for no more than a second before he was looking away. He scratched at the black stubble that covered his cheek and laid his hand over the revolver on his hip. "Are you bastards hard of hearing?"

Preston felt himself fall away from the big man who'd had hold of him. He was quick to escape the ring of bodies as they turned their attention to the newcomer. Leaning against the saloon wall, Preston fought to catch his breath as he worried about his rescuer's safety. It was five men against one—Preston couldn't see how that would end well.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the big man who had wanted to have Preston demanded.

"Not someone you'll want to talk to that way. Now, get out of here."

Without warning the big man strode toward Preston's dark-haired rescuer. Preston's cry of warning stuck in his throat when, quicker than Preston could blink, his rescuer pulled his gun and brought the butt of it down hard on the big man's head.

The big man stumbled a bit before going to his knees. He gripped his head, moaning in agony as blood ran between his fingers.

Everything else happened in a blur. The other four men rushed at the dark-haired man. With a crunching of bone and the sickening thud of fists hitting flesh, one by one the four men fell.

Preston stood there on trembling legs. In the glow of the lantern light the five men who had been torturing him moments before now laid clutching at various parts of themselves, moaning and writhing in pain.

His gaze went to his rescuer who spit out some blood and rubbed at his welted jaw. Preston swallowed hard, his breathing becoming a little less strained. "Thank you."

With a grumble, the man grabbed Preston's wrist and all but dragged him from the alley. Preston struggled to keep up with the taller man's strides. He realized they were heading for the hotel. Was this man going to hurt him? Damn, he hoped not. Preston wanted to believe this town had at least one good person in it.

"What room are you in?" the man snapped.

"What?"

"What goddamn room are you in?"

"2B."

Up the stairs Preston found himself dragged. They came to an abrupt stop outside the door. "Get your ass in there and don't come out until daylight. Then get out of this town. It ain't the right place for a man like you."

Preston nodded. "Yeah, I think I got that."

The man studied him hard a moment, his light green eyes sharp behind the unreadable mask of his face. He sure was something to look at. Sharp lines, full lips, long nose and a tanned complexion.

"Thank you again," Preston muttered when it become clear the man wasn't going to speak. "Those men...."

"Don't thank me. I don't know why I helped you but it ain't in my nature to go helping folks. Learn to take care of your damn self." With that the man strode away, leaving Preston to stare at his broad shoulders, tapered waist and rather nice backside as he did so.

Once he had disappeared down the stairs, Preston pulled his key and let himself into the room, locking the door behind him.

He realized he was shaking and he sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in hands. He'd nearly been killed tonight—or at least hurt real bad. He didn't know what he was doing out here. Sure, he'd been raised by a bunch of outlaws and able-bodied folks, but they had sheltered him.

He had known that bad things existed, but he hadn't realized just how dangerous life out in the world alone could be. If it hadn't been for that stranger.... Preston shivered.

He pulled off his boots and settled down in the bed with a book. He could lose himself in the words and maybe grow calm enough to sleep. He was happy that at least his breathing had managed to right itself before he was thrown into an attack—at least he wasn't going to die tonight.

***

Xavier laid in his bed which just happened to be directly below the pale man's and stared up at the ceiling. What the hell had gotten into him? Why had he interfered in something that hadn't involved him?

Now he had an aching jaw, the taste of blood in his mouth and some busted knuckles—all to save a man who had no business being in this town from a situation that he'd put his own damn self in.

All Xavier kept thinking about were those big blue eyes so full of uncertainty and fear. And he kept hearing that soft voice thanking him. Damn.

With a growl he threw a spare pillow across the room. He'd worked hard in his life to hide who he was, what he wanted... With a single glance of those blue eyes and a whispered thank you, that pale man had brought that part of Xavier roaring to life.

He'd wanted to take the smaller man into his arms, comfort him, protect him, kiss those trembling lips....

"Holy hell...."

What Xavier needed to do was just leave the hotel, saddle up his horse and leave town. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Not until he saw the pale man and watched him ride out. Those men could come looking for the pale man tonight—Xavier needed to stay near him so he'd be ready if they did.

Caring was for fools. Xavier was no fool. He didn't care; he simply felt responsible for the idiot of a man sleeping above him.

Yeah, that's all it was.

A/N: What do y'all think so far? Thoughts on Xavier?