by Kris Norris
She smiled her thanks, cupped the glass and downed the liquid, closing her eyes as she swallowed, fire burning a path down her throat. She savored the warmth that seeped into her chest—the rare moment when everything else disappeared—then placed the glass back on the counter with shaking fingers. “Thanks.”
She glanced toward the entrance, cursing under her breath as a figure moved through the doors. Damn if only the bastard had walked in before the marshals had.
She sighed, palming the bar as she openly measured them up. “Tell me something, Marshals—”
“McClaren. Ethan McClaren and this is my partner, Jude Davenport.”
She huffed. “No names. I don’t want to know your names. But I am curious if you two can handle those guns strapped to your hips?”
The guy called Jude crowded closer, his massive size dwarfing her. “You plan on challenging us?”
She exhaled a weary breath, tensing again when Jude brushed against her. Damn, what was it about these men that made her want to arch into their casual contact instead of run from it? She glanced over her shoulder at him, acutely aware that his presence sent a similar shiver racing down her spine. “Do you really think I’ve survived this long by making stupid decisions? Give me some credit. I’d plan any action accordingly. And taking on two armed marshals in the middle of a saloon wouldn’t be my first choice.” She glanced at the door again. “Unfortunately, not everyone in this establishment shares my feelings.”
Ethan glanced at the door, muttering under his breath.
“So you recognize Bret Wilson when you see him. Restores my faith just a bit.” She moved over to a vacant table, sliding into the seat. “I suggest you boys sit down and see how this plays out. Too many people in here to make a stand.”
She focused on Bret, vaguely aware of the two marshals reclaiming their seats. She didn’t have time to worry about them, trusting they could hold their own if it came to that. Instead, she watched Bret wander around the saloon, continuously glancing at her before finally making his way over. He kicked out one of the chairs and sat, arms along the back, legs straddling the seat. His brother trailed after him, claiming the other stool, leaning his elbows on table as he openly gawked at her.
Bret grinned. “Well, well. Who have we got here, Frank?”
His brother laughed. “Looks like we’ve found the lady we’ve been looking for. McKenna Buchanan, isn’t it? And we didn’t even have to leave town.”
She smiled. “Mighty nice of you boys to save me the trouble of huntin’ you down. Didn’t realize you had any redeeming qualities.”
Bret’s grin faded. “Not very ladylike, talkin’ like that. Makes me think you need a lesson in manners.”
“When I find a gentleman, I’ll be sure to ask for some.”
“Maybe gentle isn’t what you need?”
He rose to his feet, lunging toward her. She reacted, knocking back her chair as she drew her pistol in one quick, fluid motion. Bret stopped as she leveled the gun at Frank’s head, her thumb half-cocking the trigger. She held still, watching them both, acutely aware that the two marshals had slipped off their stools, hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.
Bret openly assessed her, a cocky grin lifting one edge of his mouth. “You can’t kill both of us, darlin’.”
“And you can’t draw before I put a bullet through Frank’s head.”
Bret tipped his head back, laughing to the point the din of chatter quieted in the saloon. “Well, I’ll be damned, brother. We got ourselves a tough one.” He held up his hands, palms facing her as he reclaimed his seat, that cocky smile still curving his mouth. He waved at the barkeep then focused back on her. “Looks like you’ve got our attention.” He nodded at her pistol. “You can lower that gun now, unless you’re plannin’ on killing us while we sit here, sharin’ a drink?”
She snorted as three whiskeys appeared in front of them, the barman all but dropping them on the table before rushing away. Bret and Frank each grabbed one, motioning toward the third. She lowered the gun, keeping it parallel with the table as she dragged the chair back into place, taking a seat then snagging the glass and downing it in one swallow, never taking her focus off the two men. Twin grins stared back at her as they followed suit, slamming the empty cups on the stained wood.
Bret tilted his head, his gaze drifting to her chest then up again. “The gun.”
She removed her thumb, gently easing the hammer back into place before resting her elbow on the table, the muzzle still aimed their way. “This is fine.”
“Not very sportin’ of ya.”
“Neither are those three boys you walked in with as backup. Makes it five against one.”
“What boys?”
She cracked a smile. “The large, scruffy one at the end of the bar. That mouse of a man over beside the door, and the blond talking to that lady behind you.”
Bret glanced around the room, settling on the last guy. “That ain’t no lady he’s talkin’ to.”
“I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.”
He raised his brows. “You’ve got a keen eye.”
“I don’t need a keen eye to know how you boys operate. I’m bettin’ you have at least six more men outside, only they’re armed with rifles instead of revolvers. I’m thinking two across the street, watching the door. A few scattered along the rooftops, on the off chance I try to sneak away, and one guardin’ your horses in case the local sheriff gets concerned. Just my luck, this town lost its only lawman a few weeks back.” She leaned forward slightly. “Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
Frank sneered at her. “Not a damn thing. But rumor has it the man started pokin’ his nose where it didn’t belong. Ended up getting it shot off.”
“Unfortunate. Seems to be a rash of dying lawmen in these parts. I understand they lost their marshal a few months ago.”
“Don’t need no badge out here. A good weapon solves most problems.”
“Starts them, too.”
He snorted, glancing at his brother. “You seem to know your way around them, as Will Tanner can attest to.”
“Will Tanner was a bastard who deserved so much more than the quick death he got. Don’t suppose you two are going to be as honorable as he was and accept a fair duel?”
Both men laughed again, the sound disturbingly loud.
Bret shook his head. “You’re challengin’ us to a duel?”
“Is there something wrong with your hearing? Or are you both just too dumb to understand the words. I can speak slower if it’ll help.”
Bret’s cocky smile faded, anger coloring his cheeks. “Watch your mouth or we’ll find something else to do with it.”
“What’s wrong, Bret? Afraid I’ll beat you in a fair fight? Lord knows you prefer your women tied up or held down so they can’t fight back.”
“If you really think you can take both of us on, then by all means…let’s go.” He pushed to his feet, glaring down at her. “You’ve got ten minutes or we come back in. And trust me when I tell you no one in here is going to stop us when we mount you on this fucking table. So you’d best not keep us waitin’. Oh and darlin’, come out alone. Anyone else joins you outside and they’ll be the first to die. Hell, they won’t make it down the steps.”
He spun on his heels, Frank’s gaze lingering on her a few moments longer before he slowly rose, mouthing a kiss at her before turning and weaving his way through the tables. A ripple of conversation followed their progression, as gazes swung toward her before returning to the door. McKenna released a shaky breath as she watched them leave, the hollow echo of their footsteps disappearing amidst renewed chatter. A hand landed on her shoulder, and she glanced up, pinned by a set of deep-brown eyes.
Ethan tsked, glancing at the doorway then back at her. “Pretty damn sure you could have handled that better, unless your plan for escaping us is getting yourself killed.”
She shrugged off his hold, gaining her feet as she took a step back. “I bought you
ten minutes. That’s better than the alternative.”
He raised a brow. “Us?”
“Afraid you boys are in just as much peril as I am. Unless you think going out there and showin’ off those shiny stars of yours will have them all swoonin’ at your feet.” She removed her hat, brushing the back of her arm across her forehead. “You heard what Bret said…you take one step outside that door, and it’ll be your last.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, one eye narrowing slightly. “Wouldn’t that be in your best interest?”
“I don’t have any quarrel with you. Bret and Frank are my mission. No sense for a couple of lawmen to die on my account. But it does mean one thing…”
“What’s that?”
“You’re going to have to trust me.”
Chapter Two
Ethan McClaren stared down at the woman standing only a few feet away and felt another tingling of awareness skitter along his skin. Like a thousand pinpoints of fire burning just below the surface. He’d had the same reaction when their gazes had met earlier, only this time the feeling made him antsy. Restless. As if the air was suddenly charged. And damned if he knew what to make of it.
His inner wolf scratched at him, the beast pacing back and forth as it fought against his hold. Shit, he’d conquered his damn wild side shortly after it’d made its presence known, and he hadn’t looked back since. But his other half had never tried to force its way out like this—not since he’d become one with the animal a decade ago. He gave it a bit of control as the creature inhaled, allowing her scent to surround him—feminine and warm with a hint of sulfur, the unusual aroma settled uncomfortably in his groin, making his pants feel strangely tight. He glanced at Jude, noting the similar expression on his partner’s face before focusing back on McKenna.
She wasn’t what he’d expected. Small, with blonde wispy strands framing her face, she had the kind of beauty that stopped men in their tracks. Only she hid hers beneath clothes and smudges of dirt, a healthy facade of confidence. She carried herself well, though he’d noticed a hint of the girl bleed through when Bret had tried to touch her. Hell, she’d shied away from any form of contact, and Ethan couldn’t help but wonder what made her wary, even of them. Though the snippets of conversations he’d heard had made his skin crawl.
“Marshal. You okay?”
Her voice drew him from his thoughts, his gaze traveling to the door. Bret and Frank Wilson. How bloody ironic. Here they were attempting to take her into custody when men like the Wilson brothers just walked into the saloon as if they owned it. Hell, they probably did. He looked back at her, noting the deep blue of her eyes and the way the bridge of her nose crinkled when she stared at him, her expression suggesting she thought he’d lost his mind.
He nodded. “It’s Ethan and I’m fine. Except for the part where we’re supposed to trust you.”
She scowled at him, muttering something about names again before firming her stance. “Believe me. The notion doesn’t sit well with me, either, but…” She exhaled a harsh breath. “I’d rather not have your deaths on my conscience.”
“An odd sentiment coming from a gunslinger.”
“I’m not that kind of gunslinger.”
“Doesn’t matter. None of us are going to die. Not here. We didn’t come all this way to let Bret and Frank Wilson intimidate us. In fact, it’s high time we brought those boys in.”
“So you’re going to take on their gang? Just the two of you? Or do you have another dozen men waitin’ outside?”
“Sorry. Just us, sweetheart.”
That furrow deepened at his words, a delightful blush staining her cheeks before she pursed her lips. “Figured as much.” She kicked at the floor, glancing around the room. “If I don’t go out there, you know those two boys will come crashin’ back in here—guns blazin’. And more than a few of these good folks will die.”
“You walk out there, and they’ll kill you. You know that.”
She smirked. “I just challenged them to a gunfight. It’s generally implied that someone’s going to die.”
“Still, these gentlemen don’t play fair. You don’t stand a chance alone.”
“I know exactly what those two cowards are capable of. This isn’t my first run-in with them. But it doesn’t change the fact that they won’t wait more than several more minutes before those tiny brains of theirs stop workin’ and they just go off…unless I step out that door. Once I’m on that stoop, you two might be able to use a window while they’re focused on me—bring those you can to justice without puttin’ your lives at risk.”
“So you’re just going to sacrifice yourself? To save two men you don’t even know?”
“Two marshals. And I’ll be sure to take at least one of those boys with me. That makes it worthwhile.”
Jude moved closer, the look on his face saying everything. “So that’s your plan? Mosey out there, kill one of the brothers and die?”
“Sounds about right. Though it’d be real nice if you two could promise me whoever’s left standin’ doesn’t stay that way for long.”
Jude snorted as he stared at her, bewilderment etched on his face. “Just…wait. Can we go back to the part where you’re okay with dying?”
Her mouth tightened at the edges, a strange emotion shaping her eyes. “As I see it, I’ve been livin’ on borrowed time for years. Reckoned it’d catch up with me sooner or later. And if you’ll promise me Bret and Frank will pay for all they’ve done should I miss, then I guess it’s about time to face it.”
She moved to her left, trying to dart past them when Ethan snagged her arm, refusing to let go when she tried to shrug him off. Her head snapped around, anger burning in those blue eyes of hers. She moved closer to him, looking as if she was planning on punching him in the jaw when Jude crowded her from behind, trapping her between them. Her bravado vanished, a flash of panic coloring her features.
Jude palmed her waist, leaning over her shoulder. “We’re not about to stand here and watch you die because you have some vendetta against those boys.” He shushed her. “Whether it’s justified or not.”
She seemed to force herself to swallow, her full lips pressing together before she dampened her lower one with a slow swipe of her tongue. “And what, exactly, did you think would happen to me once we got back to Durango or Denver or wherever it is you boys are from?”
Jude huffed, glancing up at him before looking away.
She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “If it’s all the same to you, gentlemen, I’d rather go down shootin’ than swingin’.”
Ethan clenched his jaw, lifting his other hand to cup her chin before turning her to face him. “There’s no guarantee the judge won’t see your killings as justified. Especially in light of what’s happenin’ here.”
She chuckled, the hollow sound hitting him like a fist to his gut. “I appreciate the positive attitude, Mar—”
“Ethan. My name is Ethan. And his is Jude. Not sure why that’s so hard for you.”
“I know your names. I’m simply choosin’ not to use them.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.” She palmed his chest, giving him a shove. “We’ve got about five minutes left. So unless you’re going to shoot me where I stand then I suggest you let me go.”
“Not lettin’ you walk out there alone.”
“You two come with me and they’ll be burying all three of us.”
“Not if we win.”
Her laugh was genuine this time. “There’s upwards of nine men out there. That’s at least three targets each. I’m fast, but I’m not sure I’m that fast.”
“Jude and I can handle the men. You just focus on not getting shot.”
She shook her head, glancing at the ceiling as if searching for patience. “I reckon I haven’t met such damn fool souls in a long time. Fine. You want to help me? Make your way around to their flanks. Take out those men with the rifles. I’ll hold my own with the others. But I’m the only one walkin’ out
through that door.”
Jude swore under his breath. “This is a terrible idea.”
“It’s the only one that might end with all three of us still breathin’.”
“Fine. You just make sure you stall them as long as possible, you hear me?”
“Your mouth is next to my ear. Impossible not to hear you.” She moved out of their embrace as soon as their hands released her, taking a few quick steps sideways. She stared at them for a couple of agonizing heartbeats, rubbing her hands where Jude had rested his, before turning, glancing at them over her shoulder. “Regardless of how this ends, it doesn’t change anything between us. And if we actually live through it, I’ll take any and every opportunity to escape you boys, short of killing you outright.”
Jude’s lips lifted into a feral grin. “Then let the hunt begin.”
She studied him, a sad smile gracing her pretty mouth before she continued toward the door, boots clicking—every gaze following her progression.
Jude cursed again, pushing a hand through his messy hair. “This is wrong.”
Ethan stepped in beside him. “You feel it, too? And I mean more than in an official capacity. Because she was right. She’d probably hang for her crimes. We knew that comin’ here.”
Jude growled, the low sound a definite warning. “Not going to happen.”
Ethan looked at his friend, noting the way his hands were fisted at his side, his lips starting to puff forward as a hint of white peeked from beneath the skin. “Pull back, buddy. We’re in the middle of a tavern. Can’t have you sprouting fur and a damn tail in here.”
“Then explain to me why the thought of her facin’ those men—hell, of taking her anywhere she might be threatened—makes me want to howl? Makes me feel as if my skin doesn’t fit?”
“No damn idea, but I feel the same. Did you catch her scent?”
“That fucking tempting aroma that damn near made me come inside my pants? Yeah. Caught a whiff.”
“My wolf won’t settle. Keeps clawin’ at me, trying to break loose. Haven’t had that since I was eighteen.”