by Beth Ciotta
“Taking care of business behind that bush.” Smith spit. “You sure this ain’t the right woman?”
Victoria felt the blindfold being pulled off. She braced herself for the shock, locked her knees when she did, indeed, recognize one of the gang members. She almost wished the moon weren’t full and shedding significant light. His toothless smile made her stomach turn.
“Another one of them damned coincidences. If this don’t beat all.” He leaned in close, looked down her décolletage. “You ain’t Kat, but Bulls-Eye’s gonna be happy to see you all the same.” He fingered her locket. ‘Yup. Real pleased.”
“Hey,” said Jones. “What’s taking the kid so long?”
Smith called, but she didn’t answer. He cursed, and Victoria closed her eyes and prayed. Run, Frankie, run. Run fast and hide.
“No kid, no pay,” Itchy said.
“You go this way,” Smith said. “I’ll go over there.”
“Take the locket and give it to your boss,” Victoria told Itchy as the other two left. “It’s gold, as you can see. Maybe you’d want to keep it for yourself. Please, let Frankie and I go. We won’t tell--”
“Forget it. I’m taking you both to Bulls-Eye. When he’s done with you, think I’ll have a taste.” He skimmed a finger down her neck.
She thought about Tori, her husband, Frankie . . . and something inside of her snapped. Victoria slapped away his hand with a force that shocked her.
“Bitch!”
“Touch her and I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Victoria’s gaze flew beyond Itchy’s shoulder and connected with London’s. He’d come out of nowhere, and he was holding a gun to Itchy’s temple. Her heart lodged in her throat. He looked so fierce, so . . . wonderful.
“Back away, honey.”
She did as he asked. “Frankie’s out there.”
“Boston’s got her.” He cocked the gun, focused on Itchy. ‘You just called my wife a very nasty name, Mr. Itchy.”
Victoria’s pulse skipped. “That’s all right.”
“No, honey. It’s not.” He tapped the outlaw’s head with the barrel of the gun. “Apologize.”
“Sorry,” Itchy squeaked.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Garrett,” London prodded.
Itchy repeated the apology verbatim.
London glanced at Victoria. “Sound sincere to you?” She nodded.
“Apology accepted,” London told the outlaw then shoved him to the ground. “Move and you’re dead.”
A half-dozen men moved in, two of them dragging along Smith and Jones. Victoria was stunned.
“A couple of Peacemakers and a few of Clancy’s deputies,” London told her.
Realizing she and Frankie were truly safe, Victoria’s locked knees finally gave way.
London caught her in his arms, dropped his forehead to hers. He groaned, no longer fierce but vulnerable. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Me, neither.” She swallowed hard. “We’re not going to have many adventures like this one, are we?”
“God, I hope not.” Then he kissed her, magically obliterating all the ugliness.
“Did you find my clues, Uncle Boston?”
“I sure did, Sweet Pea. You done real good.”
Victoria eased back from London, just as Frankie and Boston came out of nowhere. Mostly they were silhouettes, a big man and a tiny girl, hand in hand.
“I kicked and screamed when that bad man nabbed me,” she said. “Caused a real ruckus like you told me to do.”
“Zach said.”
“And I did the tinkle thing, too,” she announced, sounding enormously proud.
Boston laughed. “Drove them batty, didn’t it?”
“Real batty. Can we go home now?”
Victoria whispered to London. “Frankie left clues? That’s how you found us?”
“Apparently, Boston gave her lessons in tracking as part of their adventure. Told her exactly what to do if a stranger ever stole her away.”
“No wonder she wasn’t scared. She’s very smart,” Victoria said.
London nodded. “And ornery. No wonder the nuns couldn’t handle her. She’s going to drive Rome nuts.”
“That makes you happy?”
“Oh, yes.” He tugged her toward one of the horses. “Speaking of Rome . . . and Kat . . . I’m sending you and Frankie home under the protection of two Peacemakers. The rest of us are going after Brady.”
“But you don’t know where he is.”
“Itchy does.”
Her heart pounded with pride and fear. She grabbed the lapels of his black duster and yanked him down to eye level. “Please, don’t get yourself killed.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smiled. “I’ve got you to come home to.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Plus, my sister’s having a baby.”
CHAPTER 40
“Wait outside, Boyd.”
“If Elroy blabs to the law about our whereabouts like he blabbed to this woman--”
“I’m sure he thought he was doing me a favor by sending Kat my way,” Brady said. “Don’t think he’s stupid enough to blab to the law. Although,” he said, looking pointedly at her, “like I said before, I have misjudged a person a time or two.”
Although her insides twisted with rage and fear, Kat held Jed Brady’s angry grey stare. No tell. No tilt.
“Just want you to know, boss,” Boyd said, his thumbs brushing the butts of his holstered revolvers, “if I ever run across Elroy--”
“Shoot him with my blessing,” said Brady. “Now go on and keep an eye out for Garrett.”
Kat stood against the wall, near the door, her arms crossed over her queasy middle. She’d known this confrontation would be hard, but she’d overestimated her acting skills and underestimated Brady’s wickedness. It rolled off of him like a putrid smell. She didn’t know how to play him because she couldn’t read him. She went with her gut and bluffed. “I told you, Jed. I ran out on Rome.”
“And ran to the better man?” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “That’s what you want me to think, right? This is where you tell me how he done you wrong, again. Where you try to convince me that you made a mistake running out on me six years ago. How you’ve been hiding from me because you didn’t think you were good enough for me, or some equally perfumed lie. When your real objective,” he said, drawing near, “is to distract me from my daughter.”
“She’s not--”
“Let’s cut through the bullshit.” Brady braced his left hand on the wall, next to her head. “I read the letters from Sister Maria. I have your daguerreotype of Frankie. Charles F. Simmons had one daughter: you. Frankie isn’t your niece; she’s your daughter. I figured some numbers, and it’s probable she’s mine.”
“More probable she’s Rome’s,” she blurted. Tilt. She couldn’t help herself. She hated this man. Hated what he’d done to her and to people like Victoria Barrow. “Even if Frankie is your blood, she’s not you in spirit, Jed. She’s good. She’s innocent. Let her be. Don’t make her pay for what you perceive to be my crimes.”
“Perceive?” He leaned in. “Perceive?”
His anger was overwhelming. Kat struggled not to tense or cower. She scrambled to assess her opponent. His right arm hung limply by his side. His unbuttoned shirt sagged open, revealing a bandaged shoulder. It was cool outside and inside, and yet he was sweating. She took solace in the assumption that he was not feeling one hundred percent and thought about the pistol in her pocket.
“You teased me. Seduced me. Strung me along,” he growled. “You made me feel like I made a difference in your life. Like I mattered.”
“I’m sorry.” She blurted that, too. Because she was sorry. Because he was right. She was not wholly innocent even though she’d had her reasons for stringing him along.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Not sorry enough.”
Tears blurred her vision. “You’re hurting me, Jed.”
“We’re a long way from even, sweetheart. You think I�
��m a fool? I know you set me up. Don’t mean nothing that you rode in alone. Garrett tracked you. It’s what he does. He’s out there, somewhere.” He leaned in close, his mouth curling into an evil smile. “But I’m in here. And this time . . . there’ll be no laudanum.”
Six years’ worth of anger and shame welled up, blinding her with its intensity.
He tried to kiss her, but she thrashed her head side to side, struggled when he pawed at her breast. Not again. Never again.
She heard a bang. A slam. Glass shattering.
She felt Brady’s hands fall away, felt him back off.
She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her in disbelief. Saw him clutching his middle with bloody fingers.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. Rome. He stood in the doorway, his gun trained on Brady.
She smelled an acrid scent and looked down. Smoke curled from the singed hole in her duster pocket. Her fingers ached from her tight grip on the handle of the pistol that had shot Bulls-Eye Brady.
“My wife don’t cotton to being raped, Jed.”
The outlaw’s watery eyes turned on Rome. The words sank in, and he went for his revolver.
Three shots echoed from different directions, and the bullet-ridden man slumped against the table, scattering the deck of cards.
Rome holstered his smoking piece. Kat glanced left and right, saw Seth Wright and Athens Garrett at the broken windows, guns in hand.
Seth angled his head. “Now that’s what I call cashing in your chips.”
“Bull’s-eye,” said Athens.
“It’s over,” Kat whispered. She knew she should feel bad for taking a life, but all she felt was relief. No more running and riding. No more fear.
For the good of mankind.
For Frankie,
They could finally be together.
Rome caught her in his arms just as her legs gave way. “Don’t faint on me now, sugar. You still need to introduce me to my daughter.”
His daughter.
“This is only the beginning.”
Overwhelmed, she choked back sobs as Rome guided her out into the fresh air. She caught a glimpse of Boyd sprawled facedown. Dead like his boss. Moonlight illuminated a pack of men riding hell-bent for the adobe. Kat feared it was the rest of the gang, but Rome didn’t seem concerned.
“Posse,” he whispered in her ear.
Seth and Athens moved in on either side of her.
Dazed, Kat tried to make sense of their presence. “How did you know I was here?”
“Had the good fortune of running into Elroy,” said Athens.
“His bad fortune,” said Seth, massaging his bandaged shoulder.
“I found you the hard way,” Rome said. “Only you made it easy, sugar.”
He pressed her daddy’s coin in her right hand, then slipped her wedding band on her left ring finger. Her heart swelled with wonder and love. Whether their nuptials had been legal or not, she was bound to this man forever and beyond. She ached to voice her feelings, but the sentiments lodged in her constricted throat.
Rome winked as if knowing her mind, wrapped an arm around her waist as the posse thundered in. “Appreciate the gesture, brothers,” he said to the two lead riders, “but you’re late for the party.”
“Did some dancing on our own,” said Boston Garrett.
Kat tensed. “Is Frankie . . .”
“Fit as a fiddle and ornery as hell,” he said with a grin. Relief rejuvenated her spirit although her stomach roiled when the other men peeled off to survey the area and London Garrett slid from the saddle. She’d been a pain in his side when she’d spent her nights gambling at his opera house. Would he forgive and forget? Accept her as Rome s bride?
For the moment, the eldest Garrett focused on the director of the PMA. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Case closed,” Athens said.
All eyes turned to the lawyer-turned-lawman, and Kat wondered if his brothers sensed what she sensed. That, in ridding the earth of a rapist and murderer of women, he’d somehow slain his own demons. He could and would protect those he loved, and those loved by others. A Peacemaker with peace of mind.
London squeezed Athens’s shoulder. “A victory, personally and professionally.”
Athens blew out a breath, then smiled. “Time to move on.” He looked to Rome. “What about you?”
“Eat my dust,” Rome said with a cocky grin. “Made peace with my past and embraced the future.” He pulled Kat closer, a possessive, protective gesture that stirred her blood. “We got married this morning.”
Pulse racing, she waited for London to protest, but his mouth merely twitched with good humor. “Lot of that going around.” Instead of elaborating, he nudged Rome and motioned to Boston, who still sat atop his mount. “Speaking of making peace ...”
“Sorry for being a horse’s ass,” Rome said straight-out.
“Can’t help what comes naturally,” Boston said, backing the comment with a forgiving smile.
Kat was too exhausted to ponder what they’d fought about, but couldn’t help but bask in the warmth of brothers reuniting. Family.
“If you Garretts are done making nice,” Seth said with a disgusted grunt, “I’d like to get home to my wife.”
“Speaking of wives,” Athens said. “I’ll expect you all to be there when I take Kaila as my bride.”
Rome raised a brow. “Got a date in mind?”
“Soon. Like tomorrow.”
Seth chuckled. “Emily and I will be there.”
“Better make it this weekend,” London said. “Paris will be pissed if she misses another wedding, and she’s laid up right now having a baby.”
Rome smiled. “Well, hell.”
London winked at Kat. “Welcome to the family.”
She wanted to thank him, but her voice seized up again. She squeezed back tears, but they fell anyway.
Thankfully, the other men moved to their horses, allowing her a moment to collect her wits.
Blue eyes sparking with compassion, Rome thumbed away her tears and pulled her into his arms. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Garrett.”
“Home,” she croaked, feeling as if she’d just won the mother lode of all jackpots. A happily-ever-after ending with her champion and her child. Too much to absorb. Too good to be true. Would her luck turn muddy when Rome laid eyes on Frankie?
“Strong and steady,” he said with a tender smile, then kissed her and, for this moment at least, burned away her worries.
CHAPTER 41
Rome had Kat double up with him on the ride home. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He needed to hold her. He’d been scared shitless knowing she was in that adobe with Brady. He’d rushed in to save her, only she didn’t need saving. His wife had more grit than any woman he’d ever encountered. He knew she was shaken from her standoff with that bastard, but damn, he was proud of her. He’d told her in a million different ways until she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
Even though it was late when they arrived in Phoenix, Athens’s house was alive with activity. Kaila and Emily nearly ran over Rome in order to get to Athens and Seth. And a young woman he’d never met, but knew to be his new sister-in-law, launched herself into London’s arms.
Kat had a death grip on his hand. He knew she was overwhelmed. He knew she was nervous about him meeting Frankie. Hell, he was nervous. But mostly because he was afraid of the little girl’s reaction. What if she didn’t like him? In all his born days, he’d never been worried that a female wouldn’t like him. Damn. He’d been less nervous facing down a passel of desperadoes.
“Thank God,” Josh said, coming around the corner. “Men.”
London laughed. “Houseful of women too much for you, Grant?”
“Zach and I have been hopelessly outnumbered.”
“Paris okay?” Rome asked.
He grinned. “Come on in here and ask her yourself. While you’re at it, you can meet my daughter.”
“Another girl,” Zach complained as he barreled down the
stairs, Zoe on his heels. They threw themselves into Athens’s arms. “Papa!”
Family, Rome thought, his heart full. He leaned in and kissed Kat’s temple just as a dark-haired girl came loping down the stairs. Frankie. She looked like Kat. Exactly like Kat. Long, dark curls; big brown eyes. That impish smile.
His heart thudded in his chest when she cried out, “Auntie!” and raced into Kat’s arms.
“I found us a family, Auntie! Can we keep them?”
“Oh, sweetie.” Kat hugged her close, kissed her head. She blew out a breath, then gazed up at Rome with tears in her eyes. “There’s someone I want you to meet, Frankie.”
“We’ll be in with Paris,” London said, and suddenly it was just Rome alone with mother and daughter.
Pulse galloping, he stooped down to eye level with Frankie. He didn’t see Brady or any of himself in her, but she was his alright. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
She studied him with her big brown eyes. “Are you my Uncle Rome? Uncle Boston told me all about you. Said you’re something special.”
Rome swallowed a lump in his throat. “He did, did he?”
“He said you need a life, and he’s thinking I could give you one.”
Rome grinned and scratched his forehead. “How old are you?”
“Five and a half.”
“Going on ten,” Kat said, voice shaky, but amused.
He reached out and touched the little girl’s arm, his heart skipping when she didn’t pull away. “Frankie, I love this pretty lady.” He glanced at Kat, his heart, he hoped, in his eyes, then looked back to her mirror image.
The girl smiled. “Me, too. I want us to live together like a family.”
“So do I,” whispered Kat.
Rome caressed his wife’s cheek. “So do I.” He blew out a nervous breath. “Frankie, sweetie, I asked Kat to be my wife. I’d like you to be my daughter. How do you feel about that?”
She worried her lower lip, thinking it over, and Rome was pretty sure he’d stopped breathing.
“Do I get to call you Papa?”
Oh, Christ. He blinked back tears. “Sure do. And that makes your auntie your mama.”
She smiled and slammed her tiny fist in her palm. “Oh, boy! Wait’ll I tell Zach and Zoe.” She raced off, then raced back. “I forgot to give you a hug, Papa. Uncle London said you need lots of hugs.”