Stolen Dreams (The Rivers Brothers Book 2)

by Lynn Landes

  “What are you doing Bronnah, we’re being hunted!” He blows out two of the lanterns and casts the tiny two-room house into darkness, except for the fireplace flickering in the living room. She jumps as if he slapped her.

  “I’m sure they couldn’t have followed us this quickly, Marshall. Not in the storm raging outside.” Bronnah hides her hurt and begins cutting the biscuits and placing them on the tin she found.

  Storm? He was so caught up in the image she represents that he didn’t even notice the raging storm blowing around them. “That may be exactly what they wish for you to think. Did you even look at those girls, Bronnah?”

  “I did not need ta look, Marshall, I lived it.” She ignores him and kneads the remaining dough to roll it out once more. Determined not to fight with him she simply listens and lets him vent.

  "We have to be vigilant. That means not too much light or fire." Bronnah nods and hands him a cup of hot coffee. "Thank you. If we're lucky, we can replenish here and catch a train to the Marshall's office in Kansas."

  That catches her attention, Bronnah slides the pan in the oven and turns to look at him. “You’re out of your mind if ya think I’m going to the headquarters of the U.S. Marshall’s office. We’ll go our separate ways before then.” She turns away from him once more and stirs the soup. Tapping the spoon on the pot, Bronnah grabs two bowls and fills them with the steaming liquid.

  Chase eyes her over the rim of his coffee cup and slowly steps into the small kitchen, invading her space. Bronnah ignores him as he sets down his coffee. She sets the table waiting for him to respond. His hands grip her shoulders gently and run down both arms. Bronnah leans back into the steel strength of his body when he his whispers in her ear, “Over my dead body.”

  Bronnah ignores the wave of chills that erupt all over her body, and she attempts to whirl, but he holds her tight. "Bronnah O'Dalaigh, you are a federal witness under my protection. You will do exactly as I say if you wish to survive." Fury rages with the common sense in her mind. She knows that he has the right to arrest her and force her to testify but staying with him is out of the question. It will only place him in danger, and she's afraid that she will grow to need him.

  “Say it, Bronnah. Say you are under my protection.” He growls and smells the fresh scent of soap and Bronnah. She leans back into him and closes her eyes, tilting her head to offer her neck. His hot mouth nips at her and her body jerks.

  “Nay, Chase Rivers. I’ll not be owned by you nor anyone else!” She groans when he bites her neck a little harder and releases her in frustration. Bronnah sighs in relief and moves around the table to put some space between them.

  "Be reasonable, woman! They aren't going to let you walk away."

  "I know that Chase, I may be Irish, but I'm not stupid." A blush of outrage covers her cheek as she stomps closer to him. "Listen to me, please. I will give you the ledger, but I know what I heard. They said that a U.S. Marshall had been paid off…" Bronnah's eyes fly open wide with horror, and she starts to back away, shaking her head.

  “No!” She gasps and picks up the knife she was cooking with. Why else would he be pushing her so hard to go to Kansas?

  “Don’t be ridiculous, woman. I’m here to help you!” His silver eyes take in the look of panic in her eyes and the way her breathing has increased. She looks to him like a deer about to bolt. He backs away with his hands raised. “I’ve only tried to protect you, Bronnah. You know that!”

  "Do I? All I know is that you are a Marshall and you are trying to take me to the one place I shouldn't go." Bronnah begins to back away to the doorway, hoping to make a break for it if she needs too. A single tear escapes and the knife is shaking in her hand. "I trusted you."

  The simple statement in those three words cut deeper than any knife could. Bronnah runs for the door, but he's ready. Chase kicks a chair in front of her, causing her to fall over it and sending the knife skidding across the wooden floor. Bronnah rolls over swinging at him just as he traps her to the floor. She's sobbing now and struggling to fight him off.

  "Damnit, woman! You're going to hurt yourself. Stop! Look at me, Bronnah. You know I wouldn't hurt you!" Chase demands, and she grows still. Looking into his eyes all she knows is that he's threatening her freedom. The storm outside matches the intensity of the fury raging between the two of them.

  Chase realizes what he's doing and sits up pulling her with him. She gasps in pain and clutches her ribs. To his horror, her hand covers a blood stain on her shirt. "Chase?" she murmurs before passing out. He catches her and carries her into his bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he lifts the white blouse and realizes she's naked beneath. The stitches are still intact, but the section that was left open to leak is doing just that. He leaps up and runs to the other bedroom returning with her bag just as she opens her eyes. Bronnah jumps when he opens her carpet bag and laughs out loud. His laugh has her struggling not to respond. He lifts the whiskey out and holds it up.

  "A woman after my heart," his smile fades when she looks away from him and wipes a new tear. "We have to start working together, and that means listening. I am not betraying you, Bronnah. You're clearly exhausted. You need to trust me to do my job and rest." With a finger to her chin, he lifts her face back to look at him. "I would never hurt you."

  "Fine," she says ignoring his last statement, she jerks her face out of his hand. "Could you please get the biscuits out before they burn?" She sniffs and grabs the bag from him. Ignoring him, she wipes at the blood with a rag he hands her only to hiss at the burning sensation. He frowns feeling guilty that she's hurt again.

  “Alright.” Chase moves to the kitchen and takes out the biscuits and carries one back to the room where she is sitting. “They look perfect.” He takes a bite of the hot steaming bread and moans in ecstasy. “God, I’m starved.” Bronnah struggles not to laugh as she blots at her side.

  "If you'd stop falling on your stitches they could heal faster," Chase frowns at the blood on the rag. "Stand up and let me help you." Bronnah stands slowly and lifts her blouse watching his face closely. He squats down and draws his big knife out, cutting a strip of cloth from a sheet in the closet. Bronnah holds a wad of cloth over the top of the wound as he wraps the strip around for pressure. "That should help."

  “Or, perhaps if I didn’t have a big moose falling on top of me it could heal,” she quips, gesturing at her side. Yawning she sits back down on the bed and waits for the pounding to stop in her head.

  "That would be easier if you weren't so impetuous Bronnah," he replies happily eating a second biscuit. "I'm sure between the two of us that we can figure out what our next move should be. I wouldn't drag you to Kansas and put you in more danger if I didn't think I could protect you." He gives her the rest of the biscuit and orders her to stay still.

  "We'll eat here. I don't want you on your feet just yet." He returns a few minutes later with bowls of soup and biscuits on a tray with a cup of coffee for her. "For tonight, let's eat and wait out the storm. You need to heal, and we both need sleep."

  Bronnah eats her fill of the broth and biscuit and enjoys a cup of coffee. Both are quiet as they think about the past few days. Chase stands up and takes the tray with dishes to the kitchen while Bronnah grabs the ledger from her bag and runs her hand over the cover. She glances up at him when he returns and holds out the book to him.

  “I want you to have this, Chase. Do what you can to help them. I know you think I’m impulsive, but they must be stopped.” Her voice is shaking as she says, “This is ridiculous. They can’t continue getting away with this. With the knowledge in this book, we can stop them.” Chase sits heavily on the side of the bed.

  "I think you're as brave as you are beautiful, Bronnah but your hasty actions are libel to get you killed." He takes the ledger from her hand and snaps the cuff on her wrist with no warning. It is attached to his wrist. Tears fill her huge eyes, and instead of fury, he sees betrayal.

  "Are ye daft? Did ye not hear anything I said?" she demands.


  “Oh, I heard you alright. You said WE, and that means You can’t be trusted. You tend to sneak off when I’m not lookin and darlin I can’t stay awake twenty-four hours a day. I’m trying to keep you safe. There is no We in this story Bronnah. You are going to be placed in protective custody and let me do my damn job!”

  “You have no right to control my decisions.” He leans in close to her face and snarls.

  “I have all the right I need. I am a U. S. Federal Marshall, Ms. O’Dalaigh.” Chase stretches out on the massive bed beside her and shoves her over.

  “You can’t be serious?” Bronnah is incredulous. “I’m not sleeping with you!” Chase shrugs his massive shoulder.

  “Have it your way, the sleepier you are, the less I have to worry about you running off again.” He stretches one arm out over his head and closes his eyes.

  “Va te faire foutre!” Go fuck yourself, Bronnah responds in French.

  Chase laughs, and the whole bed shakes, "Be warned, that filthy mouth of yours tempts me," his silver eyes flash when her eyes drop to his mouth.

  “In your dreams, Cowboy.” Bronnah rolls away from him, ignoring his laughter when she jerks at his arm.

  “Sweet dreams, Bronnah.”

  Sometime in the night, Bronnah shivers in her sleep. Chase rolls behind her and pulls her into his heat. She adjusts using his arm as a pillow and curves her body into his and sighs in contentment. Chase grins and pulls the quilt over them and sleeps while the world outside them hides from the storm pounding around them. Tomorrow they will continue this argument, but here, tonight, he will pretend that he deserves her and hold onto her for as long as he can.

  Chapter 24

  Bronnah tries to move and gasps when she realizes Chase is holding her with one arm around her waist and his other hand cupping her breast. Blushing in the dark she attempts to pull away, but he throws a leg over hers and squeezes gently. Bronnah gasps and her body responds by arching into him.

  Chase groans and grinds against her and she can feel his response to her. Dear lord, the man feels amazing! For a moment, she is tempted to take what she can from him and be damned with the consequences. Shocked at her thinking, she freezes, and wonders who this woman she has become is. It feels so good to be held, but Bronnah knows she can't rely on him. He's a Marshall, and he isn't ready to settle down.

  Chase twitches and snores softly. Bronnah's arm is attached to his by a pair of handcuffs. Her wicked grin is hidden by the coal black darkness of the house. A crack of lightning splits the air, and the wind and rain pick up pace as if sensing her intentions. She closes her eyes when he murmurs and rolls onto his back releasing his grip on her. Taking a full breath, she tries to remember her lessons.

  One learns many things working in a poor house. He left her carpet bag next to the bed, and she drops a hand inside and smiles when she finds it. The richest to the poorest, the holiest to the wicked, all simmering in a pool of desperation. Sometimes the best that they could do was pass on their knowledge, and Bronnah was a sponge. She learned many things from the Sisters, but the most interesting lessons came from the inmates. The click of the cuff sounds like a gunshot to her ears, but over his heavy breathing, it's merely a silent whisper. Bronnah reaches up and snaps the cuff to the rod iron headboard and swings her legs over. Walking as silently as she can she moves through the keeper's house to the door, stopping only to glance behind her for a moment before straightening her shoulders and continuing.

  A crack of lightening ricochets off the walls and thunder seems to vibrate the entire lighthouse. Chase jerks awake and reaches for Bronnah only to discover empty space. Sucking in his breath, he tries to sit up but finds to his astonishment that she has cuffed him to the headboard. "Son of a bitch!"

  Chase listens and knows in this weather she couldn't have gone very far. He always keeps a spare key in his pocket, but his arms are over his head. After a few moments of cursing, he breaks the headboard free from the rails and curses. After some struggling, cursing, banging and beating, he hears her wicked laughter and sighs in relief.

  Snatching the lantern from the table, he keeps the light low and runs from the room, not bothering to check the other bedroom. Chase runs up the spiral staircase into the main lighthouse. Bronnah is perched on a wooden bench in the dark with the occasional lightning bolt surrounding her.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Bad dreams,” she answers not bothering to look at him. “I dreamt I was handcuffed to a large obnoxious bear who kept groping me in my sleep.”

  "That's funny, I had a similar dream except mine involved a fairy with a wicked sense of humor strapping me to a bedpost." They laugh for a few seconds until another bolt of lightning strikes, illuminating the entire tower. "It's amazing, isn't it?" she asks.

  He sits next to her crowding her and stares. "It sure is." His deep voice sends chills through her body. Bronnah knows she shouldn't hold any thoughts in her heart about a future with him. Chase is a Marshall. He's addicted to his job, and his life is far from here, at least that's what she tells herself.

  Afraid to look at him she continues staring out at the night sky. After a few minutes, she snaps, “Why are ya staring at me?” Chase grins enjoying the coziness of the moment and sighs.

  “I don’t get you. Chasing criminals is my job. It’s what I do, part of who I am, but you, you’re are a healer. Bronnah, you lose your husband, your family, and even your country but you still hope. You’ve seen the worst in people. Their greed, lust, aggression and even their willingness to do whatever it takes to have more, but you refuse to give up. Why?” He demands desperate for the secret. She’s silent for a long few minutes.

  Finally, she turns to look at him. “Because, Chase, it’s who I am.” Standing up she walks over to the glass window that overlooks the sea and puts a hand against the glass. It steams beneath the heat of her handprint. “You’ve got it all wrong. I came to America with no hope, Chase. Our country is being destroyed by this more you speak of.”

  Bronnah pushes away from the glass to look at him. "The landowners want more money, and the people need more food, which means more jobs. But there seems to be a catch because the more they have, the more they want and need. Always is this cry for more! More crops to send to England, more families to work the land or more sheep and cattle to farm." Tossing her hair back over her shoulder she walks closer to him and cups his face in her hands.

  "I came because I didn't want my own story to be part of that same narrative. It never changes. I thought that by making the choice to leave, I would change the outcome, but it didn't. I won't let their need for more destroy me."

  Chase tugs her onto his lap and kisses her softly. "Bronnah, you make me wish for things I didn't think I wanted." Her hands trap his face close, and she shudders at the perfect sensation of coming home. Stunned they both stare at each other before he sets her on her feet.

  "I have a job to do, and I mean to do it," Chase snaps. "You must realize you can't take on the entire Chen family. Not to mention the other corrupt officials that this book lists?"

  Bronnah wraps her arms around herself and stares at him. "I know that."

  “Do you? Since I’ve met you all you’ve done is put yourself in danger.”

  "No, Chase, I've made a difference, and it's no less than you do every day," she argues turning away from him.

  Chase is on his feet in an instant and jerks her around to face him. “Dammit! I’ve trained on the battlefield. Killing is in my blood.” Bronnah falls silent and considers his tortured eyes, falling silent she listens to him. He releases her and backs away.

  “That may be, but I need to see this through. How am I supposed to just go on with my life? Do you think they will ever let me go and forgive what I’ve done? Think about it, Chase! I can’t just go find a man to marry and live happily ever after,” she turns away from him, “I’m not sure I even want to anymore. All I know is that they must be stopped! You can take me to Kansas, but it won’t stop m
e from going after them.”

  He sighs deep staring at this woman with the soul of a warrior, and he's touched. "Okay, have it your way. I will keep you with me, but you must trust me. Do as I say without question. If we’re going into battle together, then we will do so with no doubt, no fear. Can you do that?”

  Bronnah is so relieved she runs to him and throws her arms around him, “Yes, Marshall, anything you say.”

  Chase hugs her to his chest and mumbles, "Bloody hell." Bronnah laughs in delight and pushes back to look at him. Chase stares down at her mouth and groans when she traces his lips with her fingertips. He threads his fingers through her silky hair and pulls her gently in. The moment his mouth closes over hers, Bronnah is lost. The past, the future, it all falls away and only this moment matters. His kiss is exquisite, gentle and tender. His lips lick, tease, and tempt her until she gasps in surprise at the onslaught of desire.

  Bronnah clutches his shoulders, needing desperately to get closer to him, humming in frustration when he pulls back. Silver eyes stare into hers, and he smiles down at her, "So sweet," his tongue dances with hers driving her to distraction. Bronnah lets go and allows the desire to override her doubt.

  “I want you, Bronnah.” His lips swooped down demanding her surrender. With a quick movement, he jerks at her shirt ripping it open, revealing small perfectly formed breasts.

  “Chase!” she squeaked, but his hot mouth is on hers once more. Never in a million years did she think a man could make her feel this way. His calloused hand cupped her breast, barely stroking her pert nipple and she wouldn’t turn away, even if she could.