by Pam Crooks
Jack’s fingers tightened over her wrist. “Go to hell.”
Boone lifted the rifle higher to his shoulder and leveled the barrel over Jack’s heart. “Do what I tell you, or you’ll die right here.”
Only a fool would refuse to believe every chilling word he said. It took every ounce of Grace’s dignity and pride to hide her fear and do what she could to prevent him from taking her. She was Bess Reilly’s daughter, and Boone had to know she could be as fearless as her mother had once been.
Grace angled her body in front of Jack’s, as far as he’d let her go. Boone studied her with those fierce black eyes, like he could eat her alive.
“You’ve changed, haven’t you, Alexandre?” she said, infusing calm into her voice. “A great deal, in fact.”
He jerked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You had me fooled at first. I almost didn’t recognize you.” She shook her head, feigning amazement. “Alexandre Thibault, isn’t it? Your real name?”
He went still. Very still.
“Perhaps you don’t remember.” Grace kept talking to keep her courage up, his defenses down. “We met some time ago. In Minneapolis. My friend, Allethaire—”
“You’re wrong.”
“—threw a party. You were there, as Charles Renner’s guest.”
His lip curled, showing a row of strong teeth. And one crooked eyetooth. “You’re talking stupidity, woman. Stop it.”
“You were quite handsome in your tuxedo, as I recall. You drank brandy that night and had all the ladies in a twitter over you.”
Above the collar of his fringed coat, his throat moved. “No.”
“Yes. I took your picture. It’s become one of my favorites.”
A growl erupted from him, like a lion ready to lunge. “Enough, I said!”
“What happened, Alexandre?” Grace knew she was playing with fire, that it was only a matter of time before she got burned, but still she taunted him. Still, she played with the fire. “Why do you look like—I’m sorry, forgive me—a savage?”
He snarled and grabbed for her.
Jack swore and yanked her back. “Easy, Grace,” he hissed under his breath. “Easy.”
He kept her pressed to his side, but she ignored his warning. She’d come too far to back down now.
“Was it Charles, Alexandre? Did he force you to live like this?” she asked.
“No one forces me.”
Her brow arched at the admission. “You choose to live no better than a mongrel dog? Always on the run, with no place of your own?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“But I want to, Alexandre.”
She noted the rifle had lowered. Some. She had his full attention, and was it pain she glimpsed in the steely-black depths? A deep and terrible agony?
“You miss your old life, don’t you?” She focused on the pain and tried to make him bleed. “How can you not? The price you pay—for whatever reason you choose—is too much. Don’t you agree?”
His breathing had changed. “Some days, yes.”
She clucked her tongue in sympathy. “What a shame. You’re too handsome and too smart to live an outlaw’s life.”
“It must be done.”
“Because Charles expects it of you? While he’s safe and comfortable in Minneapolis?”
Boone’s nostrils flared, ever so slightly. The resentment, she sensed, he could barely contain.
“Give yourself up, Boone.” Jack spoke roughly. “Cooperate with the law, and maybe the judge will show you some mercy.”
The black eyes snapped toward him. “Shut up.”
“Show us where the stolen money is.”
Boone jerked back to Grace. The rifle’s aim turned lethal again. “Come here.”
“The hell she will,” Jack said, pulling her against him.
Boone jerked toward him. “I’ll kill you.”
“And hang for it, damn you, with the rest of your crimes.”
The air seethed with hostility between the two men, and Grace knew the progress she’d made had been lost. She wanted the library money back as much as Jack did. More. She had to keep trying to beat down Boone’s vulnerabilities.
“Alexandre. Listen to me,” she pleaded. “If you know where the money is, take us to it. Jack’s right. Your cooperation will go a long way—”
“No!”
“That money doesn’t belong to you! It belongs to the Society, the people who worked hard to raise it in Minneapolis!”
“It belongs to my people!” he thundered. “Who have none of the extravagances you have and take for granted in this country.”
The implication of the words reverberated inside Grace’s head and left her speechless. A moment of tense silence followed, until a buzzer sounded.
The door’s buzzer.
Someone had come to call. Someone besides one of Lindell’s boarders who would’ve just come inside of their own accord. Boone’s head whipped toward the sound; his gaze sliced down the stairs and toward the front door.
Jack took advantage of the distraction and went for the ceramic pitcher on Grace’s bureau. He threw it one-armed at Boone and yanked Grace to the floor on the far side of the bed where she’d be protected most, then covered her with his body, all in one mind-blurring motion.
Boone twisted back toward them a split second before the vessel slammed into the side of his head, splaying water and knocking his flat-brimmed hat askew. He staggered backward. The skin on his temple split open; blood spurted. His rifle went off, and the sharp report exploded in Grace’s ears.
Boone roared in fury. For a moment, rendered immobile from the weight of Jack’s body, Grace didn’t move, didn’t breathe, but felt thankfully aware she’d been spared from the bullet gone wild.
“You all right?” Jack rasped into the top of her head.
Footsteps clomped into the hallway, down the stairs.
“Yes,” she gasped, pushing against him. “But oh, we can’t let him get away!”
Jack swore and heaved himself off of her. Grace thought of nothing but Boone making his escape, that they had to capture him and get her precious Literary Aid Society money back before they lost it forever.
Tugging aside her skirts, she scrambled to her feet after Jack, who was already bolting into the hall. She ran from the room, too, and had almost reached the top of the stairs when he halted halfway down them. Swore viciously. And raced back up again.
Grace had no time to stop her own momentum, and he clipped her as he ran past, knocking her onto the floor again. She cried out, her legs all akimbo.
“You all right, Grace?” he called for the second time in as many minutes, but he’d already disappeared inside her room, only to run out again moments later with his holster in his hand.
“Yes, just catch him, Jack! Please hurry!”
Downstairs, the kitchen door slammed. Jack dashed past her, slapping the gun belt around his hips and buckling it while he leaped down the stairs.
“Stay put,” he ordered her over his shoulder. “Lock all the doors!”
The front one flung open. A man Grace had never seen before ran in, as tall and lean as Jack. About the same age, too, but darker skinned with jet-black hair.
“What the hell?” Seeing Jack in such a hurry, he froze in mid-step. “I heard a shot.”
“It was Boone!” Jack snapped.
The man appeared stunned. “Here?”
“Yes, damn it! He ran out the back door.”
Jack sprinted into the kitchen, and the other man followed. In the breadth of a heartbeat, the back door clattered shut behind them.
Grace’s feet barely touched the carpet on her way down the stairs to see the woman they’d left behind.
Allethaire, as striking as ever in her fashionable chinchilla-trimmed coat and hat, and looking perplexed from all that was happening.
Seeing her flooded Grace with a mix of happiness and relief, and of dismay and horror from her ordeal.
Allethaire’s arms opened, and Grace fell into them with a shudder.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Grace said, hugging her friend close and absorbing the cold she brought in with her.
“I nearly had heart failure when I heard that shot ring out,” Allethaire said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Grace pulled back shakily. “Well, half fine.”
“Did Jack say it was Boone that fired the shot?” Incredulous, Allethaire took each of Grace’s hands tightly into her own.
“Yes. Can you believe it?”
“The same Boone that robbed the Manitoba?” Allethaire persisted. “The Boone who robbed me of the Society’s money?”
“Yes. He—he just came in here, as free as you please. Of course, all the boarders were gone, and no one was around to stop him. He came up to my room, and Jack was there, and—”
Allethaire’s eyes widened. “Jack was in your room?”
On the floor with me, kissing me senseless, making me forget all that he’d done and what he could still do….
But of course, Grace couldn’t admit as much to Allethaire. Yet the memory of his mouth rolling over hers, the addictive taste of him, his rugged male scent filling her senses, would remain forever in her mind, so vivid now her pulse tripped, and her blood warmed, and she had the most regrettable urge to do it all over again.
Allethaire’s mouth softened. “Well, never mind. He’s a fine man. I’m half-crazy about him myself.”
“You are?”
“We all think the world of him.”
But you don’t know what he’s done. He helped to kill my mother! And he’ll kill Carl, too!
Grace wanted to protest, and again the words didn’t come. Allethaire wouldn’t understand why Grace had to protect her lawless half-brother from Jack. She didn’t know the secret Grace had always kept to herself about who Bess and Carl really were. And wouldn’t Allethaire take Jack’s side of it anyway? Wouldn’t she just think that as a former lawman, Jack had to uphold the law, no matter what? That because he took part in the robbery of the Society’s money, Carl was guilty and needed to be punished?
Grace let go of Allethaire’s hands and crossed her arms over her chest. Her friend wouldn’t know that Carl was the only family Grace had left. She wouldn’t care that Carl needed to be saved from his crimes.
Pensive, Grace swiveled a glance toward the kitchen door and traded her tumultuous thoughts for those more immediate. She wondered what was happening outside. If Boone was long gone. Or if Jack and his friend had managed to catch up with him….
“Do you think we should go out there and see if they need our help?” she asked, half to herself.
“I think we need to stay right where we are,” Allethaire said firmly. “Mick and Jack are far better at this sort of thing than we could ever be. Boone is an awful man and capable of great violence.”
“I’m quite aware.” In tardy comprehension of what Allethaire had just said, Grace swiveled back to her. “Mick?”
Allethaire removed her glove, finger by finger, and avoided looking at her friend. “You’re not going to believe this, I’m afraid, but he’s Mikolas Vasco.”
The name tumbled out of Grace’s memory as the man who had helped kidnap Allethaire in a scandalous ransom scheme three years ago.
“What?” Grace couldn’t help a gasp of shock. “The Basque sheepherder you told me about who—?”
“The one and the same.” Allethaire gripped her glove in her hand and lifted her chin. “I’ve fallen in love with him, Grace.”
Grace blinked.
“We’re going to be married, in the spring,” Allethaire added.
Grace’s fingers flew to her mouth. “Oh!”
“Mick is a wonderful man, truly he is.” Allethaire spoke in a rush. “He’s strong and honorable and proud. He’s half-owner of the Wells Cattle Company, you know, which is how he got to be such good friends with Jack.”
Grace struggled to comprehend how Allethaire’s choice of men had dramatically shifted. A man like Mikolas Vasco couldn’t be more different than all her most eligible suitors in Minneapolis combined.
“How could you fall in love with him, Allethaire?” Grace tried not to sound accusing, but unfortunately, she did. “After all he’s done?”
“He saved me during the train robbery. I practically owe him my life from it. I’ve never met a man quite like him. He just swept me off my feet with his kindness and goodness, and we’ve both put the past behind us.”
“But, Allethaire.”
“Don’t you believe two people can change, Grace? I’m a better person for having known him.”
Change? Is that what it was? Or was Allethaire destined to have a life filled with heartache once the veil of infatuation lifted and reality set in?
Grace couldn’t help thinking her best friend was making the biggest mistake of her life… and yet she looked so happy now, it was hard for Grace to truly believe it.
Besides, who was she to judge?
Wasn’t she doing the same thing as Allethaire? Hadn’t she allowed herself to become much too attracted to Jack, his passion and his kisses, so that sometimes she forgot how easily Carl could fall victim to Jack’s sense of justice, just like her mother had?
“Grace,” Allethaire said gently. Compassion filled her features, and she took Grace’s hands into hers again, squeezing them in reassurance. “I learned the hard way I had to trust what was in my heart. I know you will, too.”
The back door opened again, and Grace whirled toward the sound. Jack rushed in, his mouth set in a tight, frustrated line.
“How in hell many more times is he going to get away from me?” He spat the words, giving fair warning to his foul mood.
“He had the advantage, Jack.” Mick strode in after him and closed the door. “We didn’t even have a saddled horse ready. And he had a head start on us.”
“I’m going after him. I’m not coming back until I have him by the throat.” Looking as fierce as he was determined, Jack headed for his coat, hanging on its hook near the front door.
Thinking again how much Carl needed her, would always need her, and now, more than ever, Grace stepped in front of Jack, stopping him.
“Not so fast, Jack,” she said coolly. She planted her hand on the broad planes of his chest. The cold which had settled into the fabric of his shirt registered on her palm. “I have a plan, and you’re not going anywhere until I tell you what it is.”
Chapter Eleven
She calmed him. Jack had only to gaze into Grace’s upturned face and soak in the beauty that was so much a part of her for the fury to up and leave him.
Most of it, anyway.
He took the time he needed to clear his mind of Boone, shift gears and let his thoughts take her in instead. His gaze drifted over the perfect bones of her face, her smooth skin the perfect shade of cream and those full, perfectly rosy lips.
They still bore his mark. Slightly swollen and gently parted. Might be his passion had sparked out of control, but she’d matched him, fire for fire.
He would’ve taken her, right there on the floor, and it took a major intrusion like Boone to keep him from what could’ve been a big mistake.
Grace would’ve regretted it. She’d know how Jack wasn’t good enough for her. She’d remember how she was bred for the city, to live in high society, mingling with the rich. Minneapolis’ finest.
She wasn’t bred for a cowboy who worked cattle on the Montana frontier. She’d have no admiration for a man who gave up his dream because of his father’s sins. A man who succumbed to the shame of being an outlaw’s son.
“Before you say anything, Grace, I believe introductions are in order.” Allie’s voice snapped Jack’s thoughts back to the present. She hooked her arm through Mick’s and hugged him against her. “I want you to meet the man who will soon be my husband.”
Grace withdrew her hand from against Jack’s chest an
d turned. He sensed the apprehension in her. Obviously, Allie had told her about the pair’s relationship. Jack couldn’t blame Grace for being wary, considering the pain Mick had once put Allie through.
Jack curled his fingers around the back of her neck, above the collar of her dress. The warmth of her smooth skin met the cold of his.
“He went through a rough time awhile back, but he’s a better man for it,” Jack said quietly. “I’ve never known a finer friend.”
Her quick glance showed she appreciated his attempt to assure her. Removing his Stetson, Mick stepped forward, took her hand, and gallantly pressed a kiss to her knuckle.
“Mikolas Vasco,” he said. “But everyone calls me Mick.”
“I must say I’m surprised to meet you, but very happy to do so. You were at the restaurant yesterday, weren’t you? With Jack and another gentleman?”
“The police chief, George Huys, yes.”
A gracious smile scooted across her lips. “Well, any friend of Allethaire’s is a friend of mine. And since Jack likes you so much, then I will, too.”
Mick didn’t return the smile but inclined his head in all seriousness. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“You may as well call me ‘Allie,’ Grace,” Allie said. “It’s a name that seems to have stuck for me out here.”
“Oh?” Grace appeared surprised at that. “How strange to go by something different than what you’ve always been.” She slid Jack a glance through her lashes, turning him wary. “Isn’t it, Jack?”
His eye narrowed. There was an insinuation there, in that comment of hers, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She wouldn’t know he’d been born Ketchum but now went by Hollister.
Would she?
She returned her attention to Allie. “So what brings you to Lindell’s? Your timing couldn’t have been more crucial.”
“Yeah,” Jack growled, still testy over not being able to read her. “The more we stand here talking, the farther away Boone gets.”
“Like Grace said, we need a plan,” Mick said. “Maybe we should get the police involved again. Doesn’t make sense to go tearing off into the hills like our tails were on fire. We spent a week with the posse doing just that, with no luck.”