He moved like a wild animal, with a combination of barely suppressed violence, boundless energy, and a loose-hipped grace that made her mouth go dry. She’d seen cougars in the hills, and they stalked tiny live things just as this man stalked her.
He came too close. Mary’s back bumped the door.
“How much?” he whispered, and his breath brushed her hair.
Despite the heat of the room, the heat of him, she shivered. Why had she thought she could meet a beast in his den and come out unscathed?
She stared straight ahead, not wanting him to see that his nearness rattled her, but her eyes were level with the pulse that thudded calm and sure at his neck. Her own heart pounded entirely too fast, in perfect disharmony with the rasp of her breath in the still of the shadowed room. Mary yanked her gaze from the hollow of his throat and met his eyes.
“How much?” he repeated.
“Everything.”
Reese smiled a predatory smile. If Mary could have retreated any farther, she would have, but her back was against the wall—literally.
He put a hand on each side of her head and leaned close. The muscles in his arms bunched. His chest rose and fell directly in front of her face as he took a deep breath.
“Well, now, I’ve never been offered everything before.” His voice had gone south, from Virginia to Georgia, the lilt she loved deepening, trilling along her spine like a feather. “Would everything include you?”
Mary’s mouth fell open; she was that surprised. She must remember he was not a gentleman despite the refinement of his voice and the culture in his words. She had come here alone, offering him everything; of course he thought she was offering herself. What surprised her was that he had even asked. Men simply never looked at her that way—until this one.
“You’re gonna catch flies.” Reese put one finger below Mary’s chin and pushed her mouth closed.
The heat of his skin startled her; her response to it disturbed her more. Because she wanted this man to keep touching her, and that was something spinster schoolteachers just didn’t go around wanting.
“Everything most certainly does not include me, Mr. Reese.”
He flinched and stepped back. “Just Reese,” he snapped, and turned away.
His back was as beautiful as his front, and the sight distracted Mary. All that smooth bronzed skin over supple, shifting muscles. He had an odd scar, low and large, but the single imperfection only served to emphasize the flawlessness of the rest.
Mary shook her head to clear the sudden and odd fascination with this stranger’s body, breathed more deeply now that he did not tower over her, and got back to business.
“I will pay you all the money I have to come to Rock Creek and make them stop.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to be so crass as to ask for an exact figure, Miss McKendrick.”
“One hundred and fifty dollars.”
The muscles in his back tensed, released, then started to shake. Mary was alarmed for a moment until she realized he was laughing.
“I fail to see anything humorous in that number. From what I heard downstairs, you appear to be short on funds.”
He stopped laughing. “You seem to have heard a lot about me.”
“Word travels.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” He turned, and his face was grim. “How many of them?”
“Fifteen. Sometimes a few more, sometimes a few less.”
This time, his mouth hung open. At least he wasn’t laughing. Mary crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “You’ll catch flies, Reese.” She frowned. “Is Reese your first name or your last?”
“Both.”
She doubted that, but his name was irrelevant as long as he did what she asked.
“You think I can take care of fifteen men alone?” He tilted his head, considering her for a moment. “Just who told you about me, anyway?”
“Man called Rourke passed through. Said you were the fellow to talk to for a job like this and that I could find you here.”
“Well, wasn’t that mighty nice of him?”
“I thought so.”
His eyes narrowed, and he appeared more like a cougar in the night than ever before. “I’m going to have to bring some men along with me.”
“You’ll come?” Mary could have cursed the hope that lit her voice. She did not want him to know just how desperate they were. Men like Reese preyed on desperate folk, and the folks in Rock Creek had been preyed upon enough.
He stayed silent so long Mary thought he might yet refuse. Her fingers dug into her arms to keep herself from reaching out and begging him. Doing so would get her nowhere with Reese.
After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed. “Well, hell, everything is a damn sight more than I’ve got right now. I’ll come, with five others.”
“Six of you against fifteen of them?”
“Best odds I’ve had in a month of Sundays.”
“These men must be good.”
“Together I’d say we’re downright magnificent.”
“And your friends will come?”
“They’ll come,” he said, but he didn’t look happy about it.
* * *
When the door closed behind Mary McKendrick, Reese shrugged into a shirt and started searching for his boots. He had no time to waste if he was going to find the others and get to Rock Creek within two weeks, as he’d promised.
Now Reese was a lot of things, but when he took a job, he did the job, and what he promised, he delivered. That was the only way to stay alive and keep the jobs coming.
Two minutes after she’d stepped into his room, Reese should have sent Miss McKendrick on her way. But he never could resist helping a good woman in trouble. Call it a curse. He certainly did.
He should never have gone near her, but she had drawn him like a fly to melted sugar. And like that fly, he’d been caught, because despite the mud on her skirt and the dust in her hair, she’d smelled sweet and clean and good. Just the scent of her, combined with the soft sound of surprise she’d made at the back of her throat, had aroused him in ways the women he allowed himself these days never could.
She wasn’t even pretty, but Reese had learned long ago that pretty didn’t mean shit in this ugly world. He’d seen women so beautiful, they made you want to weep, yet underneath they were snake mean. But Mary... There was something about Mary that made him ache, deep down, where it hurt the most.
When he’d touched her, just one finger on her chin, the softness of her skin had made him remember everything he had spent years trying to forget. Because Mary was a woman straight out of his secret past—a past so far gone that not even the five men who chose to ride at his side knew of it.
Oh, they supposed, and they guessed, and they even placed bets on just who and what he had been before the war made him what he was. But they didn’t know, and they never would.
So he’d go to Rock Creek, and he’d help Miss McKendrick, and he’d take everything, but he wouldn’t touch the one thing he wanted to the most.
This woman who had never been touched before.
* * *
Two weeks to the day after Mary had climbed back on the blasted stage and retraced her route home, dust billowed on the eastern horizon. The church bells rang once—a Rock Creek warning to herd your innocents out of sight. Thus far the bad men had taken only things, not people, but that didn’t mean times weren’t going to change.
The children had gone home an hour ago, and Mary was just leaving the schoolhouse, where she’d been contemplating her fingernails and cursing Reese. He wasn’t coming, and not only had she wasted two weeks believing he was, but hiring him had been her idea. If he didn’t arrive, she doubted she’d be allowed to go hunting another man like him, even if she knew where to find one.
Her friend, Josephine Clancy, daughter of the Right Reverend Clancy, joined her. They stared at the dust cloud approaching town. The thunder of hooves filled the air, making the suddenly deserted streets seem even more ghos
tly.
“We’d better get inside.” Jo tugged at Mary’s arm.
“Just a minute.”
Mary squinted at the cloud, which had drifted close enough to distinguish the shapes of men on horses. Six men to be exact, and the one in the middle wore black from the tip of his hat to the toe of his boot.
“Reese,” she whispered, and in that one word she heard too many things.
The group pulled up as they neared town, and Mary got a glimpse at what she’d paid everything for. They looked rougher than the outlaws they’d come to drive away, these six men of various ages and sizes with an arsenal attached to their saddles and hips. Mary hadn’t seen that many guns since she rode out of Missouri.
“That’s them?” Jo asked.
“Yes.”
Jo’s hand slipped from Mary’s arm, and she laced their fingers together. “I only have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Did things just get better, or did they get worse?”
* * * * * *
List of Titles
The Rock Creek Books
Reese, by Lori Handeland
Sullivan, by Linda Winstead Jones
Rico, by Lori Handeland
Jed, by Linda Winstead Jones
Nate, by Lori Handeland
Cash, by Linda Winstead Jones
The Columbyana novels, in order of publication:
The Sun Witch
The Moon Witch
The Star Witch
Prince of Magic
Prince of Fire
Prince of Swords
Untouchable
22 Nights
Bride by Command
Bride by Midnight
Firebird, a Columbyana novella
For a complete list of previous and upcoming releases check here:
www.lindawinsteadjones.com
Linda Winstead Jones
Linda’s first book, the historical romance Guardian Angel, was released in 1994, and in the years since she’s written in several romance sub-genres under several names. In order of appearance, Linda Winstead; Linda Jones; Linda Winstead Jones; Linda Devlin; and Linda Fallon. She’s a six time finalist for the RITA Award and a winner (for Shades of Midnight, writing as Linda Fallon) in the paranormal category. She’s a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of seventy books. Most recently she’s been writing as Linda Jones in a couple of joint projects with Linda Howard, and rereleasing some of her backlist in ebook format. She can be found at any one of a variety of Facebook pages and at www.lindawinsteadjones.com.
Linda lives in Huntsville, Alabama. She can be reached at:
[email protected]
Twitter at @LWJbooks
https://twitter.com/LWJbooks
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Linda-Winstead-Jones/103936415079
Red Door Reads
www.reddoorreads.com
Cash (The Rock Creek Six Book 6) Page 26