by Howe, Cheryl
“Where are the other men you were with? Were they caught?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know for sure. I think Mulcahy was shot pretty bad. Might be dead. All I know is that when the shooting started, I took off. Hid for a night or two, thinking I was dead for sure. But after a while I had to find some food and water. That’s when I first knew I was being trailed.”
“I think we should go to the authorities and try to clear your name.”
“No.” He swung his legs over the bed’s side. “No authorities. They’ll just lynch me.”
She gripped his shoulder to keep him from standing. “I don’t believe that. Surely there is someone who will listen to you.”
He brushed her hand aside and got to his feet. “The only thing I can do is hide till this blows over. There’s lots of killing and robbing in New Mexico territory. Somebody will do something worse soon, and then they’ll forget all about me.”
“That man who came today won’t forget.”
Corey dropped a saddlebag he’d grabbed and sagged into a chair at the table. “I don’t know how he figured out who I am. I was hoping it wasn’t him, but after today I know it is. He won’t let me get away.”
Lorelei perched in the chair across from him. “You know him?”
“Know of him. His name’s Braddock. Someone pointed him out to me once. You don’t want to get on his bad side, the fella told me. He doesn’t like Southerners, neither. He’s all messed up from the war.”
“But if we can convince him you’re innocent—”
“If we can’t, he’ll take me straight to Santa Fe and they’ll hang me for sure.”
“I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of this one, Corey.”
“Maybe you can talk to him for me.”
Lorelei secured a pin in the heavy bun pulling at the back of her head. The thought of facing the man called Braddock again forced her heart to race. Even the beginnings of a beard couldn’t hide his rugged good looks. His dark eyes had assessed her with a detached lust that both touched her physically and warned her she’d be no match for him. Which he knew.
“I already talked to him. He doesn’t seem too fond of listening.”
“You can go to his hotel room and talk to him. He might listen then.”
Her fingers froze. “What are you asking, Corey Sullivan?”
“It worked on Berkley Ellard, didn’t it?”
She slowly lowered her arms. The mere mention of Berkley’s name popped the bubble of guilt she always carried in the center of her chest. “That was different. Berkley knew you. Besides, a crooked game of cards doesn’t hold a candle to what you’ve been accused of. That Braddock fellow thinks you’re a murderer.”
Corey abandoned his chair to kneel beside her. “I saw the way he looked at you. And you don’t even look that good right now. If you pretty yourself up like the old days, he’ll listen to anything you have to say. I know it.”
She tried to look indignant rather than shamefaced. She wasn’t that same silly girl anymore. And Braddock could easily use her weakness against her. He had to have noted her nervous fluttering in his presence.
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Nothing. Just stall for time. Sweet-talk him.” Corey stood. Lorelei ran her hand over the table’s gouged surface. She held no power over men. Berkley had taught her that, and Braddock stirred her in a way that Berkley never had, even while he terrified her. But she had to do something.
“Do you know what he’ll think if I show up at his hotel room dressed in some low-cut evening gown? He’ll think I’m delivering myself to him on a silver platter.”
Corey slid behind her and rubbed her shoulders, a sure sign he thought he might be getting his way. “You can handle him. I saw how you set him back when he grabbed your arm. He’ll be the perfect gentleman in your hands, Lorelei.”
She doubted Braddock even knew what a gentleman was. And even if he did, how could she expect him to behave like one if she wantonly showed up at his hotel room, alone, asking for a favor? “Corey, I can’t do what you ask. It’s not proper. Ma wouldn’t approve, and she’s not cold in her grave yet.”
“If you don’t stop him, he’s going to hunt me down and they’re going to hang me. Don’t you think Ma would want you to save my life if you could?”
The only thing worse than having her only daughter turn into a harlot would be having her only surviving son, her baby, harmed. Lorelei braced her elbows on the table and covered her eyes with her fingers. “It’s not going to work. I can’t convince him to stop chasing you.”
“Just keep him occupied. While you’re talking to him I can sneak away. I know a place where I can heal up; then maybe we can figure out what to do. I just need to get him off my trail, Lorelei, or there’s no hope at all.”
She peeked through her fingers. Corey watched her, his brown eyes shining like sunlight on a sorrel’s groomed coat, the color returning to his cheeks. She was the one who felt sick.
“I’ll do it,” she agreed.
When he opened his mouth to thank her, she stopped him. “I’m going to find out what he knows about those other men. I still think you should go to the authorities and tell them you weren’t a part of the robbery.”
A grin wobbled at the comers of his mouth, but when he limped back to the bed, her brother grimaced dramatically enough to assure Lorelei he wasn’t as injured as he wanted her to believe.
“It’s your arm that’s hurt, Corey.”
He cradled the arm she reminded him of as he sank onto the bed. “I’ll clear my name with the law as soon as things calm down and folks aren’t so hanging mad. I never wanted to be an outlaw, just a horse breeder.”
Lorelei folded her arms over her chest, feeling duped. Their mother would claim being an outlaw and a horse breeder were one and the same. Lorelei didn’t even want to think what she would say about the undertaking to which her daughter had just agreed.
CHAPTER TWO
Braddock leaned against the cool iron headboard, and rubbed his hand over his freshly shaven face. He had forgotten how good it felt to be clean. The long, hot bath in itself had been worth the ride into Arriba. A sound night’s sleep on a soft bed wouldn’t hurt, either. He shifted his shoulders until his hard angles melted into the mattress beneath him, but the unknotting of his stiff back didn’t do a thing for the nick in his pride left by that thorny flower of Southern womanhood.
The way she’d stood there—high and mighty, all the while he could tell she quaked in her boots—made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time: like it was his duty to protect her. His honor bound oath. But he had lost his taste for oaths and honor during the long war to preserve the Union. He’d done more hacking apart than preserving.
And as well as she put on the proper lady act, he knew Sullivan wasn’t her brother. No man would expect his sister to fight his battles. In Braddock’s experience, family didn’t work like that. They didn’t help each other without something to gain. So what did this woman have to gain by protecting Sullivan? A wedding ring perhaps, or maybe part of the gold. Braddock pushed himself off the bed. He pulled a clean shirt from his saddlebag and tugged its well-worn, black cotton over his shoulders, but left it unbuttoned. He hadn’t done the woman a favor by letting her believe she’d succeeded in protecting Sullivan by standing up to him. She’d be in for a very unpleasant surprise if she tried to stand up to Mulcahy.
Caring what happened to a silly woman increased Braddock’s strong desire to march to the saloon and get blind drunk. He hadn’t given a damn about anything in a long time and he wanted to keep it that way. The sky turned purple outside, painting the wood framed buildings that lined Arriba’s one street deep blue.
Braddock lay back on his bed. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight. He didn’t feel like sitting outside Sullivan’s place while the outlaw and the woman were inside doing things Braddock refused to imagine, but did every time he closed his eyes. He shifted, suddenly feeling all
the lumps in the mattress.
A soft knock at the door brought Braddock swiftly to his feet. He grabbed his pistol from the holster hanging over the room’s only chair. Silently he slid across the room.
He eased the door open.
The woman from Sullivan’s ranch stood in the hallway, clutching a pink satin bag. A lantern in the hall spilled light over her glossy dark hair and the pale skin exposed by her off the shoulder gown. A satin vee highlighted a low neckline, revealing some deep, purposely tempting cleavage. His gaze dropped briefly to a skirt with a dozen pink bows, but quickly returned to the shimmering band of ribbon that framed the gown’s best feature. This was a package too pretty to resist.
He opened the door wider. Her appearance didn’t surprise him, though he almost wished it did. The high-and-mighty act she’d regaled him with at the ranch ran shallow.
“What do you want?”
He stuck his gun in the front of his wool pants, where she could see. It caught her attention. Then her glance strayed to the swatch of bare chest exposed by his open shirt. She actually looked more horrified by the latter. She averted her gaze, her perusal not reaching his face. Her grip on her purse tightened.
“I’d like a moment of your time, Mr. Braddock, if I may?”
He raised his eyebrows, resisting the urge to laugh. She’d showed up at his hotel room in this outfit and had the nerve to act a mannered lady? He had every intention of telling her to drop the pretense, but the way she held herself, stiff and proper, stopped him. Or maybe it was just the amusement of playing such a silly game. He bowed slightly from the waist.
“Please, come in, Miss...?”
She seemed to relax at his tone. Her waltz past the threshold rustled her rose-colored skirts, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. “Sullivan. Lorelei Sullivan.” She limply offered him her dainty, gloved hand.
“Sullivan. Of course. Corey’s sister.” He cradled her fingers in his palm and pressed his lips to the satin in a whisper of a kiss.
She withdrew her hand, then fluttered deeper into his den, looking for a place to land. Braddock removed the globe from the kerosene lamp mounted to the wall. He used the matches tucked into a metal pocket beside the base to light its wick. Gently he shut the door, then turned the key in the lock.
She spun at the sound, then backed toward the window as if she had walked into a trap.
He stalked her, no longer content to play her game. But her tempting bait hovered over a dark hole. Before he bit, he intended to find out what lay in wait. If she planned to entice him to step in front of the window so her lover could get off a good shot, she was going about it all wrong. She would be the one who wound up hurt.
“Step away from the window.”
She slid sideways, her back pressed against the wall. “If you like, I can wait outside while you finish dressing.”
“Why? We both know you came here to get me undressed.”
He put his hands on his hips, letting his open shirt fallback. He fondled her with his gaze, blatantly enjoying the way her gown pushed up her breasts and cinched her waist. She definitely possessed the figure for this job she was doing.
“I came here to talk about Corey.” The woman’s cheeks flamed and she practically choked on her words. She might have agreed to seduce him, but she obviously didn’t like it.
Braddock found himself angry. “Why did you let a man like Sullivan put you up to this? You’re no whore. Not yet, anyway.”
She raised her chin, finally meeting his gaze. “You don’t know what I am. And Corey didn’t put me up to this. He’s innocent, and I have to make you believe that.”
“Fine. Let’s see what you can make me do.” Steeling himself against compassion, he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over the foot of the bed. “Come here.”
She flattened herself against the wall. “I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t feel like talking.”
She edged along the wall as if she were making her way toward the door...or his gun belt. In two swift steps he blocked her path. He draped the belt over his shoulder.
“Why don’t I spare you from wrinkling your pretty dress. I’ll go gather up your brother. What do you say, Lorelei?”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“How do you intend to stop me?”
His heart beat too rapidly to just be testing her. He wanted her to try to change his mind. She inched toward him, but teetered to an abrupt halt a good two feet from where he stood. Barely within arm’s length, she gingerly placed her palms on his waist. He covered her hands lightly with his own. He’d give her the chance to move them only if they roamed in a direction he wanted them to go. Lower—not in the vicinity of the gun belt hanging over his shoulder. His body tightened at the thought.
She appeared clueless of what he wanted. With the invisible chasm still separating them, she turned her face up to his and puckered tightly closed lips.
He’d given Lucky more passionate caresses. “You’re joking, right?”
Her eyes fluttered open, then narrowed at his obvious uninterest in her chaste offer. “I must be. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
She tried to yank her hands away, but he held her to him.
“That’s more like it. Let’s put that feistiness to good use.” He gripped her waist and jerked her against him. She flattened her palms on his chest. Her efforts to push him away only succeeded in pressing her hips more firmly against his as she leaned back with her upper body.
He bent his knees to take full advantage of her squirming. If she wanted to play at coming to a man’s hotel room to save her lover, he’d give her a good game of it.
“Let me go.”
“You’d do anything for Sullivan, wouldn’t you? Well, if you want to keep me from going out and hauling him in, you’re going to have to offer a lot more than a closed-mouth kiss.”
“I’ll kiss you, all right. You won’t even know your own name when I’m through with you, but not with your weapon digging into me.”
He grinned. Her innocent charade was as weak as her high-and-mighty number. “That’s the way we do it out here, sweetheart. We skip handholding and walks in the moonlight.”
“What if it goes off?”
He swallowed hard, swelling at her words. God, any more talk like that and he just might. How long had it been since he’d had a woman?
“It won’t go off until you want it to, I promise.”
He rubbed his hips against her to make his point.
“Um, I don’t want to get my foot shot off, and I’m sure you don’t want to risk…” She glanced down between them, clarifying her point.
The weapon she spoke of was the .44 Smith & Wesson still in the waistband of his pants. How had he forgotten a weapon within her immediate reach? As he grappled with his stupidity, she jerked from his grasp.
Forcing himself to go slowly, he slid the gun belt from his shoulder and reholstered the revolver. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.
Before he lost his senses altogether, he hung the belt over the black iron headboard of the bed. He wanted to keep his guns within reach just in case Sullivan planned to drop in when things heated up. Set-up or not, his body ached for the release so obviously being offered. If this woman wanted to seduce him to keep him from going after Sullivan, he’d let her—at least until dawn. He could easily catch up with her lover later.
He turned to face her again, but she had widened the distance between them. The atmosphere in the room had cooled. Braddock regained his composure, suddenly realizing the only one who had been on the verge of losing control was him. The little vixen actually performed her job perfectly.
He’d change that. The teasing portion of their game of dangle the cheese had come to an end. No longer would he be the hungry mouse. If she wanted to sacrifice herself for Sullivan, he intended to feast.
He met her gaze and slowly unbuttoned the top of his trousers. She visibly shrank at the challenge. He
sank into the straight-backed chair and spread his knees. He slapped his thighs twice in a blatant demand for her to sit in his lap. “Over here. Now”
She took a deep breath and talked to his feet. “This is what happened. Corey ran into this fellow who was interested in a good horse trainer.”
“I know what happened,” Braddock snapped.
“I don’t think you do, because you’re mistaken when you accuse Corey of being part of the robbery. He didn’t know anything about it.”
“Then why was he wearing a bandanna over his face?”
Her gaze jerked up. “What?”
“Christ, you actually believe that bull he’s been feeding you. Not all the men died right away. An eyewitness saw your Corey. Seems he was running a wicked card game a couple of nights earlier in a saloon near Santa Fe. The witness remembered him because Sullivan lost big after someone hinted he was cheating.”
“He wouldn’t shoot anyone.” The woman flattened her palms against her belly as if she were in danger of losing its contents.
He stood and buttoned his pants. Her queasiness was contagious. Suddenly he didn’t have the stomach to take advantage of such a naive woman.
“All I know is that men died, and Corey was riding with those that did the shooting.” He grabbed his shirt and punched his arms through the sleeves before he faced her. “The one I really want is Mulcahy. If you can get Corey to tell me where he is, maybe I’ll put in a good word for him.”
“Can you get him out of trouble?”
“No, but I might be able to keep him from hanging.”
“Might?”
“Maybe, maybe not. At best he’ll be spending a good part of his life in prison.”
“I can’t take that kind of chance.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Why can’t you just go after this Mulcahy and leave Corey alone?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Braddock bent to retrieve his boots. He’d pack his gear and pick up Sullivan’s trail. If she had any sense, this woman would go home once Corey was in custody. She was in too much danger out here. In too much danger in this room.