#daniela shepard

Excerpt:

Garrus pushed the brim of his hat up and swung the doors to the saloon open, ignoring the eyes settling on his tall frame. The sound of a lively piano tune hit him first. The smell hit him second: clean city-folk and too-expensive whisky. His blue eyes swept across the open room until they settled on a man eyeing him from a table tucked in the innermost corner.

His chest tightened. Ignoring it, he stepped forward, his boots thunking heavily against the floor. As he reached the man, he gave a small nod.

“Dad.”

Garrus, caught in the edges of sleep, heard something soft fill the dead silence of the night. His brows flexed at the sound. Was it part of a dream or real? But as the sound kept playing, soft yet incessant at the same time, he quickly realized what he was hearing wasn’t part of his imagination.

His spine went rigid.

The melody was calm and a little melancholic, somehow. Experienced fingers plucked guitar strings like they’d been playing for ages, moving between keys with ease. Garrus opened his eyes and turned his head slowly, blinking away the last remnant of sleep, but not daring to move. The fire still burned, the log glowing on its last embers.

And on the other side of it was a person sitting cross-legged with a guitar in their lap.

He was wide awake then.

Something dark on the knuckles caught his attention as this man’s fingers flexed along the strings, but he couldn’t see what it was. The dark cowboy hat’s brim was so low he couldn’t see a face. A dark serape laden with red and white details draped around their shoulders and covered their frame, though Garrus could tell it wasn’t the big Mexican—Danny, maybe—that he’d ran into earlier.

This had to be the other Mexican. The unnamed one.

Garrus’ hackles raised and his heart beat like a war drum against his ribs. A member of Danny’s gang; not surprising when he’d been following them. But this was the worst situation to be in. He was a tracker. A bounty hunter—a damn good one too. Somehow, this man had snuck into camp and sat down without him noticing.

He held all the power now. All Garrus could do was lay on his mat, frozen in place, and wait.

“Duérmete niño, dúermete ya…”

Garrus had no idea what the words meant, but knew they were Spanish. The song was the kind his mother would sing to lull Solana to sleep, the melody familiar. The voice was low and soft—almost whispered—but light enough for him to frown.

“…que viene el coco y te comerá…”

This wasn’t a man at all. It was a woman. Everyone had said they were all men, but looking at the serape, it was easy to understand why. If she kept her mouth shut most of the time, it made even more sense.

“…ya viene el coco, no tardará…”

All kinds of questions raced in his mind, the most pressing one centered around his current situation: why the hell was she singing to him? Was she making a point? Messing with him?

“…dúermete niño…”

The guitar stopped playing, and yet the melody of the line was clear: more was coming.

Her head tilted up, the brim of her hat high enough for him to see the side of her face. Full lips. Angled features. Dark brown eyes looking down on him through the glow of the fire, expression neutral, if a little assessing.

Garrus squinted and set his jaw, his body bracing automatically. It was like a punchline was about to land and it irked him that he had no idea what it would say. The edges of the woman’s lips curved, predatory and satisfied, and he realized then he was in big trouble. The final words she said were spoken, not sung:

“…que aquí está.”

Their eyes locked and his jaw ticked.

Bait.

This was bait and he’d fallen for it—he knew that now.

His revolver was in his holster, still tied around his hips. One quick move. One well-placed shot, and he’d get away.

His fingers twitched at his side.

Shepard hummed as her bare toes broke the surface. "The water's nice."

Before Garrus could say anything, she'd already pulled her undershirt off, balled them in her hands, and tossed the cream heap unceremoniously to the grass. The late evening made the sweat on her bare chest sparkle gold under the sunlight. Her trousers came next along with her drawers, leaving her completely naked.

She undid her ribbon and ran fingers through her hair, shaking it loose. Tattoos long since faded from work and time twisted as the muscles under her skin worked--the star on her wrist, the dagger on her right bicep, the pierced heart on her left upper arm, and the crude yet hilarious FUCK YOU 🖤 on her knuckles.

Garrus felt his chest get hot. He'd always seen her in trousers and shirts, always in something meant to hide her silhouette and confuse whomever they met. What she wore was her business, not his, and it hadn't stopped him from feeling drawn to her.

But seeing her bare hit him in a way he hadn't expected.

One final smirk was all he got before Shepard turned around and ran into the water, waist-length curls bouncing around her shapely frame. As soon as it hit her waist, she dove forward and ducked under the surface, hair slicked back straight as she emerged seven feet ahead. Her mouth fell open once she ran her hands over her face, and Garrus' heart did something stupid in his chest.

Her lips curled maliciously. "What's wrong, Garrus?"

He finally remembered to breathe. "Nothing."

"Oh, yeah? Why aren't you in the water, then?"

His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"Aww, what's wrong, cowboy?" she crooned, tilting her head. "Where's that famous courage of yours hiding?"

Garrus' jaw tightened. A low laugh escaped her and she nodded backward once.

"Ándale. I promise I won't look."

Liar...

With a sigh, he pulled off his shirts and flung them with Shepard's. As he hooked his thumbs into his trousers and drawers, he made a point to look her in the eye while he pulled them down to the ground.

Hers never dropped once. But her smile grew wider.

"See? Wasn't that hard, was it?"

Garrus grumbled under his breath and toed the water's edge. Not so cold he'd start shivering in a minute, but not so warm he'd want to stay for hours. Shepard watched him from the deeper end, brown eyes still locked on his face. One foot in front of the other, he walked calmly into the water, slowing down as it threatened to reach his hips.

A deep breath. Just enough to brace for the inevitable shock that would travel up his spine. But just as he was about to--

Splash!

A sharp inhale sounded through his mouth and his spine went rigid. His skin prickled immediately under the spread-out drops that'd landed all over him.

"Don't--"

Another splash, this one bigger. He growled.

"Goddamn it, Dani!"

Shepard laughed. "You should see your face right now, cabrón! You look like I--"

Splash!

A palmful of water hit her square in the face. Shaking the worst of it out from her face, she dropped her mouth open and cocked a brow. She hit him back with more water.

Garrus retaliated. An indignant huff escaped her.

"Oh, you wanna do this, huh? Let's go."

She pounced on him, but he sidestepped just in time and swam away sideways, snorting while she cursed him out in Spanish. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close, lifted her sideways with ease, and listened to her shriek as he tossed her into the water. She ducked underwater and his shoulders shook with laughter.

"...Dani?"

She didn't emerge. The water was too dark to see through, muddied by their movements.

His eyes narrowed. "Dani, are you--"

Garrus made an undignified sound as cold hands wrapped around his ankles and lifted them up, making him wave his arms and fall backward below the surface. Laughter met him when he emerged and swiped a hand over his face.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now," he promised.

"No! No, please!" Shepard said, words faltering with every chuckle.

His hand wrapped around her bicep and he pulled himself close to her while she squirmed like an eel. Some struggling later, and he was behind her with his arms locked around her waist. Fingers dug into his, trying to pry them off, but she couldn't get free.

She turned her head and watched him over her shoulder. Both their laughter slowed steadily. Her fingers softened around his, gliding instead of tugging.

God... he'd never seen her like this. Free of any burdens on her shoulder, existing instead of surviving. It suited her better than he'd suspected it would. It suited her so much he couldn't take his eyes off her.

His chest tightened. His eyes dropped to her lips and he watched her tongue dart out to wet them. As he raised his gaze back to her eyes, her lingered on his lips a second longer before meeting his again, now softer than he'd ever seen them.

Her breathing deepened. So did his.

A final glance down to her lips. She returned it.

A hand lifted and settled on his cheek. He pressed into it automatically, eyes sliding shut.

"Hold it steady," Shepard said.

The hunting knife emerged from her sheath, freshly sharpened that morning. The elk had landed near the tree line. Not ideal, but they were lucky it hadn't gotten further before succumbing. A clean shot through the heart and lungs; the poor buck didn't even make it fifty yards.

Nodding, Garrus grabbed a foreleg and leaned his weight against it enough to keep it flat on its back. A short nod from Shepard came in return. He then watched her pinch and pull the skin by its groin, slide the tip of the knife through the hide and abdominal wall, and immediately insert two fingers into the wound, using them as a guide for the blade while she worked her way up to the breast bone. A wave of trapped heat coiled in the morning chill.

It was almost mesmerizing, though he didn't know why he was impressed. She constantly proved how capable she was, be it leading, tracking, hunting, shooting; everything he'd experienced during his time with her gang played on repeat in his head. Most of the images were colored by her.

Always her.

And it made his stomach knot so violently he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Vakarian!"

Garrus blinked. "Huh?"

"I told you to pull it wider."

"Pull it wider...?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "The cut."

Dull thuds followed as she tapped the flat of her knife against the edge of a rib, drawing his eyes down to the open carcass. He hummed an affirmative and moved his hands to the sides of the cut, letting her work deeper.

He didn't miss her eyes lingering on him several seconds longer before going back to work.

He didn't meet her gaze.

She reached deep into the cavity and cut tissue holding the organs in place. Next came the though muscle separating the chest from the abdomen. A few careful cuts later, she wiped the knife clean on the hide and slid it back into the sheath.

"Lift," she said.

Garrus rolled to his feet and pulled with Shepard. More heat rolled from the cavity as the mass of organs came free and sloshed unceremoniously beside the elk. She wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, leaving a red streak behind, and glanced down at the ruined lungs with a nod.

"Good shot."

He hummed noncommittally, vision blurring over the blanket of lupines scattered across the grass plains, leaving nothing but violet blobs in their wake.

"Alright." Shepard's tone was stern enough to straighten Garrus' spine. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"Bullshit."

His jaw flexed. Of course she knew. Of course she peered right into his soul the second her eyes landed on him.

"What is it, Garrus?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "I swear it ain't nothing, Dani."

"Right. So you've been staring into the distance for fun?"

He opened his mouth. Nothing but a huff came out. Damn it, he couldn't tell her. This would've been easier if she'd been cruel, reckless, or exactly the sort of outlaw he'd expected, but she kept proving him wrong at every turn.

Nothing had changed. He knew what he had to do.

But the cost certainly had.

"Did I do something?" Shepard asked.

The soft question snapped Garrus' attention to her.

"Because if I did, you better tell me right now so I can fix it."

"No," he said firmly. "Of course not."

"God... you look so guilty." Her hands fumbled. "Do you regret last night?"

A deep breath. A slow exhale. The quiet made her nod.

"That's it, isn't it?"

He shook his head. That wasn't it. They'd had fun in the water first and in the tent afterward. He'd woken up before her with her legs tangled with his and her warm body half-draped over his chest. In the morning silence, nothing but sunrise, birds chirping, and her steady breathing dampening his skin, he'd felt at peace. Happy. Like this was how things were supposed to be.

But then reality set in and it got tainted fast.

He didn't regret it--not quite. It also wasn't too far from the truth.

Shepard lifted a shoulder. "We can pretend it didn't happen. But I need you tell me what you want so I know how to play this."

Garrus scoffed. "That's not--"

The words died there. Christ. He'd spent weeks dreading this conversation. In every version of it, she'd been furious. In none of them had she offered him a choice, and he didn't know what to do with it.

He should tell her. Just bits of it. Make her understand why he was locked in his head and felt like he was going to throw up.

But he couldn't.

Shepard stepped closer. "Garrus."

"Dani, I--"

Another step closer. "Just tell me what you want."

He raked a hand through his head. "I don't--"

She grabbed his arm, smearing blood into the fabric. "Hey. Tell me, damn it."

His chest rose and fell sharply. Icy blue eyes stared into her sharp brown. When he stripped away all of the complicated circumstances around this, one thing became very clear:

He wanted her.

Garrus shrugged out of her grasp, his eyes softening a fraction before he grabbed her shoulders and crashed his lips against hers. A surprised sound burst from her throat, but changed to an airy moan quickly.

His eyes opened long enough to find the nearest solid surface. He walked them there, her backward, steering them clumsily while he held her tight to stop her from falling. Still, her body jerked on their way there. Once as they tripped over a stone. Twice as her legs tangled with the front leg of the elk.