by Sandy James
He looked away.
“To the carriage.” Stephen gave her another push.
He’d planned well. They were in the middle of nowhere. There was no one who would hear her should she shout. The driver of the carriage wouldn’t even make eye contact, meaning he was another of Stephen’s hirelings.
Grace was utterly alone as the few hopes she still grasped dwindled.
When Stephen gave her his hand to help her in the carriage, she dug in her heels, folded her arms over her breasts, and refused to budge. “I won’t go with you.”
His cool smile shouldn’t have surprised her. Then he pressed the gun to her ribcage. “You will.”
“Shoot me. I’d rather be dead than let you do what you’re planning.”
He motioned to the man who’d followed them out of the car.
The big man stepped up. “Mr. Shay?”
“I’m tired of dealing with this…nuisance. Take care of it.”
“With pleasure.”
The blow came quickly—a sharp hit by a meaty fist against her chin.
Stars shot through her mind, and then there was nothing but darkness.
***
Adam stepped off the train with Jake following right behind him. The latest message from Matthew had narrowed their search to the outskirts of San Francisco, so they’d stabled their horses in Idaho and taken a train the rest of the way. A bit surprising that Shay’s family seemed anxious for Adam to find Grace. Perhaps year after year of dealing with the man’s ever-increasing insanity had finally convinced the high profile members that Stephen needed to be stopped.
Yet they wouldn’t offer any help but advice.
Now it was up to Adam and Jake.
“We’re not even sure which way that damned house is.” Jake’s tone betrayed his loss of patience.
“We’ll find it, but we’ve gotta have a plan,” Adam insisted. “We can’t go charging in there with guns blazing.”
“Why the hell not? We hire a couple of horses, get our asses out there, and take back Grace.”
It was hard enough to keep his own raging temper at bay. If Jake’s was allowed to run rampant…
This couldn’t end well.
Dear God, all Adam could do was worry about Grace—about their child.
No, he needed to keep himself reined in, and he needed Jake to maintain control. “Shay’s family might have washed their hands of him, but I’ve no doubt he’s still surrounded by hired guns. If we rush them, she could get hurt.”
Jake fixed his mouth into a grim line. “Then what do you wanna do?”
“We go to the sheriff first. We get fresh horses and find the house. Then we can decide the best way to snatch her right out from under Shay’s nose.”
***
Adam had expected a rebuff. He’d even anticipated that he and Jake would be on their own when they went for Grace. But he sure hadn’t expected the sheriff of the sleepy, little burg to threaten to arrest him when all he wanted was to get to his wife before that bastard Shay could hurt her again.
“You’re damn well gonna tell me where Shay’s house is,” Adam demanded. “Or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll spend the night in a cell!” The sheriff pushed his chair back hard enough it toppled to the ground. “This is my town. Mine!”
“Bullshit. You’re nothing more than Stephen Shay’s hireling. Nothing but a damned lap dog.”
Blinding anger finally pushed aside all the eternal patience everyone believed Adam possessed. They’d been wrong.
Even he had his breaking point.
Knowing every minute he wasted with the corrupt sheriff could mean more pain and suffering for Grace erased any threads of tolerance he had left.
Adam took a threatening step toward the smug sheriff, his hands fisted, ready to pound the man into the floor if that’s what it took to get the information he needed.
Jake’s hand settled on his shoulder.
It took all the tenuous self-control Adam had remaining not to shift his frustration to his adopted son.
“We need to go,” Jake said in a low tone.
“Go?” Adam gritted his teeth. “Not until this son-of-a-bitch tells me where Shay’s house is.”
A tight squeeze on his shoulder stopped him from taking a step forward. “Trust me, Adam. Please,” Jake whispered.
He glanced back and recognized the look on Jake’s face—he knew something he didn’t want to share with the sheriff and his deputies. Perhaps he’d gleaned some information from the deputy who’d remained outside for a smoke and talk to Jake as Adam went in the office to argue with the sheriff.
Adam nodded, threw one last scowl at the curs who refused to help him, and followed Jake outside.
They mounted their horses, and he let Jake take the lead. As soon as they were far enough away from the tiny town to speak freely, Jake reined his horse to a stop.
Adam pulled up beside him.
“The house is three miles north on this road.”
“How did you find that out?”
“Deputy told me—also told me no one would stop us if we went after Shay.”
Adam threw a glance back toward the town. “What about the sheriff?”
“He’s in Stephen’s pocket.” A hesitant smile. “But the deputies belong to his brother—the oldest brother who wants him gone.”
“Then what in the hell are we waiting for?”
Jake smiled, reined his horse north, and gave it a kick.
Adam followed close behind, riding hard for the house, and praying—again—for wife’s safety.
***
“Damn it!” Grace kicked the door, letting her frustration find an outlet.
She wanted to pound on the thing with her fists—to scream, cry, and carry on like an angry child. None of that would help her, so she took a deep breath instead and tried to find some calm. Perhaps then she could come up with a plan for escape.
She’d awakened in a room lit only by a hurricane lamp. The place was empty except for the bed she’d been lying on and an oaken dresser.
A frantic search of the drawers yielded nothing more than linens and indecent garments that couldn’t rightly be called nightclothes. She didn’t even want to know why there were silk ropes or barbed whips. A shudder ripped through her, knowing that if she didn’t get out of there, Stephen might find a way to put those things to use against her. Figuring she could wield at least one against him, she’d grabbed a leather whip.
She fumbled through her skirts to find the letter opener, and she offered a whispered prayer of thanks that it was still there. While she prayed, she also asked for the strength she’d need to keep Stephen from his despicable plan so she could protect her unborn child. And though she held little hope she’d win in a physical fight, in each hand she now brandished a weapon—she wouldn’t give in without inflicting plenty of damage of her own.
“Oh, Adam. Please find me.”
***
“I count three,” Adam whispered to Jake as he stared at the tiny house.
The thing was smaller than the home Matthew and Victoria would share—probably nothing more than two rooms. Shay obviously used this place when he needed some privacy. A man of his wealth and stature sure as hell wouldn’t deign to live in that shack.
A silent nod came in reply as Jake pointed at the man stationed right outside a small, high window and held up one finger. Then he pointed to the entrance before showing two fingers. “Third’s at the other door ’round back.”
“Where in the hell is Shay?” Damn, but Adam wanted to get his hands on that man and wring his neck like a chicken being prepared for Sunday supper.
Jake shrugged. “There’s no carriage. No horses, either. Maybe he had someplace to be and will be back later.”
“Then now’s when we have to make our move.”
“We’re only getting one shot at this.”
Adam flashed Jake an angry scowl. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Easy there. Just want
this to work.”
Holding in his fear and anger was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. A slow count of ten didn’t help much.
God, he needed to see Grace—desperately needed to know she was well.
He drew in a shuddering, deep breath. “I’ll take the guy at the front door. You go ’round back.”
“If we can be quiet, we can keep him—” Jake nodded at the man lighting up a cheroot under the window, “—out of the fight.” He frowned, his features stern even in the fading light. “Don’t like the notion of killin’ any of them, but—”
“They wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Just remember that bastard pointing a gun at Beth.”
Jake’s frown became a glare.
Coming around the far side of the house, Adam plotted how to silence the goon watching the door. Just as he pulled his Colt, Stephen Shay’s carriage ground to a halt close to the house. A glance back revealed the door was no longer guarded, but before Adam could figure out where the guard had gone, a sharp pain sliced through his head.
His world spun in a dizzying circle before it went black.
***
The door burst open, forcing a squeal from Grace’s lips before the identity of the intruder settled in her thoughts. “Jake!”
Her heart was hammering so hard, she feared she’d faint. Jake had come for her. The whip hit the floor. “Where’s Adam?”
“Taking out the guy guarding one of the doors.”
Dear God, but she had to get him out of there. If Stephen came back, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him.
She gathered her skirts in her hand and hurried toward the door. “We’re getting outta here.”
Suddenly his hand was on her elbow, hurrying her faster than she thought she could move. She stumbled alongside him, daring to hope that they could escape.
The hope vanished the moment he reached the doorway and came face to face with Stephen.
Jake tugged Grace’s arm, took several steps back, and shoved her behind him.
She fought, trying to get around and put herself between the two men.
“Why, Grace.” Stephen sounded almost bored as he entered the room and shut the door. The gun he had pointed at Jake said otherwise. “What a…surprise. We have a guest. How kind of your brother to join us.”
“Let him go, Stephen,” Grace begged, struggling against Jake’s strong arms.
She had to get between them before Stephen could harm him.
Jake kept moving her back, making her feel as if she were a fish trying desperately to swim upstream.
Why couldn’t he understand? Stephen was toying with him.
She hadn’t protected him when he was a child—she was damn well going to protect him now.
“Ain’t going nowhere, Grace.” Jake leveled a menacing glare at Stephen. “I’m not afraid of him.”
A sinister smile crossed Stephen’s face. “Not afraid, eh?” He chuckled, the sound as grating as discordant music. “What do you think, my sweet? Should I dispatch him now? I know how distressed you would be should I let my men mess up the boy’s handsome face. He is, after all, your brother.” His black eyes considered Jake before shifting to Grace. “Perhaps you will bend to my will to save his life?” He pointed the gun at Jake’s chest.
The surge of fear gave her strength. Jerking Jake’s arm hard enough he took a stumbling step back, she slipped in front of him. “You’ll have to kill me before I’ll let you touch him.”
He clucked his tongue. “So noble. So brave. Putting yourself between your brother and my gun.”
Jake’s hands encircled her waist, and he tried again to shove her behind him.
She changed tactics and whirled to face him. Wrapping both of her arms around his waist, she clung to him like a human suit of armor.
A growl rose from his chest as he tried unsuccessfully to pry her away from him. His pride might be dented, but she was keeping him alive. Stephen had taken too much from her already.
He couldn’t have their son.
Jake’s voice came low and angry in her ear. “Don’t feed him your fear.”
“What shall it be then?” Stephen asked. “Do I shoot him?”
“No!” Grace turned to confront her tormentor, snatching the letter opener from her waistband and standing with it at ready.
A muscular arm pulled her back, and before she could fight him, Jake had her tucked behind him again. “You best back away from that door. I’m taking Grace, and we’re leavin’.”
With a chilling smile, Stephen leveled the gun at Jake’s chest again. “What you’re going to do, my friend, is die.”
“No!” The scream ripped from her throat as she found more strength than she ever thought she could possess.
She set herself between the two men. Facing Stephen, she had one choice left.
Taking a deep, gulping breath, she held the letter opener in front of her and narrowed her eyes. “You would kill your own son?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jake’s sharp intake of breath registered in Grace’s mind, but she couldn’t think about him right now. Saving his life was more important than keeping her secret.
“He’s your son, Stephen. This boy is your son.”
“What are you talking about?” Stephen’s eyes bored holes through her as the hand holding the gun trembled.
She held her ground. “Nine months after you attacked me, I gave birth to your son.”
“You’re…you’re lying!” Stephen’s face flushed red as his mouth opened and closed over and over. “How could you?” Obsidian eyes focused on Jake. “My…my…son?”
Her heart beat so hard, she thought she might be ill. “Your son. Your rape left me with child.”
The confusion on his face morphed to anger. “How could you keep him from me? You had no right!”
“No right?” Hysteria tinted her voice. “You raped a fourteen-year-old girl! You think I’d let you or your despicable family anywhere near him?”
“He’s my son!”
Before she could reply, the door slammed open hard enough it bounced off the wall. Adam’s tall frame filled the space as he took a step into the room.
Stephen whirled to face him, pointing the gun at his head.
The scene slowed down in Grace’s mind until seconds became minutes. The letter opener was gripped tightly her hand. As she hurried to protect her husband, she stumbled on her skirts. It didn’t matter because she achieved her ultimate goal. The weapon slid into Stephen’s back, and the feel and sound as it sliced through him would forever be etched in her mind.
Sickened with what she’d done, she jerked the letter opener free and dropped the blood-smeared blade to the floor, the clatter echoing with the intensity of a church bell. She collapsed to her knees, the world around her growing cloudy.
Stephen turned and aimed the gun at her again.
There was no fear. Her fate had been predestined from the moment Stephen raped her. With infinite sadness at the fate of her unborn child, Grace surrendered to that destiny, bowing her head and waiting for him to shoot.
A shot sounded, but instead of pain came the sting of hot drops spraying her face.
Adam’s bullet had exited through Stephen’s chest, leaving blood over her face and hands.
Still, Stephen kept his pistol fixed on her.
Another shot—Jake’s shot—pushed Stephen backward, forcing him to flail as he collapsed back on the wooden floor with a sickening thud.
***
Adam kicked the gun Stephen dropped out of reach, although the man had to be dead.
He wasn’t taking any chances.
Holstering his weapon, he crouched next to his trembling wife. Jerking a handkerchief from his vest pocket, he tried to gently wipe away the blood from her cheeks, not at all surprised his hand shook.
“Is it over?” Grace’s voice was nothing but a whisper as she smeared some blood across her cheek with the back of her hand. Her wide eyes settled on his now stained handkerchief.
Her hand went to her still flat stomach. “Will I have to go to jail now?”
His heart ached at her anguish—she didn’t care about herself, only the child she carried. His child. “You didn’t kill him. I did.”
“No, I did.” The strong voice behind him came as a reminder that there was still much to do before the curtain rang down on this drama.
“Doesn’t rightly matter which of us ended his life. The man deserved killing,” Adam replied, looking at his wife but speaking to Jake as well. “He kidnapped you, and he would’ve shot any one of us.”
About to pick her up, Adam stopped when a soft, tormented cry rose from her chest. She held her right hand in front of her, gaping at the blood covering her palm and fingers.
He gathered his wife into his arms, wanting to carry her all the way back to Montana so he could keep her safe—so she could put all this trouble behind her and heal. “Hush now, Gracie. It’s over.”
“What about the warrant for attempted murder? Won’t I go to jail?” She sniffed hard.
“What warrant?” he asked.
“Stephen has a warrant for my arrest from when I shot him in San Francisco. That’s what he threatened me with to make me stay silent when he arrived. He said I’d have my baby in prison.”
After suffering so much, she didn’t deserve to be haunted by that bastard from his grave. “If there’s any kind of warrant, Matthew will take care of it. I’ll hire a lawyer if I have to. Our baby won’t be born in jail.”
Jake stepped forward to place his hand over hers. “You saved my life. You saved Adam’s life.”
Her eyes searched his, probably hoping to find forgiveness there. Not for having stabbed Stephen, but for keeping the truth from Jake his whole life.
Despite his fingers covering hers, there wasn’t anything in his tone nor his expression that spoke absolution.