And Douglas’s weapon was still unused.
The sardonic tilt of the man’s lips told Quint he knew exactly what was being asked, and his pale eyes cut towards the saloon. Behind Quint.
Carefully, keeping his gun ready, Quint braced his palm against the dirt of Blind Avenue and pushed himself to his feet. He shifted so he could keep King and Burton covered, but still see Finnie.
She stood on the boardwalk in front of her saloon—the saloon she’d sacrificed so much for—her rifle on her shoulder and Cinco hiding behind her skirts. Quint grinned at the sight, despite the gravity of the situation. She looked like some kind of avenging angel.
And a killer shot.
“You saved me?” he asked.
Shrugging, she lowered the butt of the rifle to her waist, but kept it trained on the threats. “Seemed fair. You saved me.”
Quint’s heart swelled with love, and he had to physically stop himself from going to her and taking her in his arms. This wasn’t the time or place, but soon.
“That’s not true, sweetheart. These men saved you.” He jerked his chin towards the people of Black Aces, who were cautiously helping one another to their feet or peeking from behind their hiding places. “They stood up together, just like you wanted.”
Finnie’s smile bloomed as she took in her bedraggled neighbors. “Well then, you saved them.”
That was the truth. Just as he’d told McNelis, he’d put his life on the line to protect innocents. It was his duty. Someone had killed O’Grady and the others, but none of them were the Ace.
No, last night he’d had the Black Ace in his arms, and he'd known almost instantly who it was.
“And so did you,” he said in a low voice, reveling in the way her eyes shined with love.
He caught Gomez’s sharp glance and wondered how much the older man knew about the Ace’s identity. Douglas chuckled dryly, and Doc Vickers suddenly looked up.
“You there! And you! And you, Reverend! Help me get Mr. Caplan to my office immediately!”
The widow’s companion pulled her out of the way just as a group of men stepped up to hoist Millard. It was impossible to see where he’d been shot, but there was a lot of blood. Doc hurried behind the strange entourage, and Quint wondered if the man would live.
And if he did live, what kind of stories he’d tell about working for King.
King had done his best to tear this town apart, and Finnie had kept it together.
Suddenly, none of this seemed to matter. He’d just killed a man, yes, but he’d done it to protect innocent people. Burton was still standing there, appearing bored, and the look in King’s eyes wasn’t at all stable.
But none of that mattered as much as getting Finnie into his arms and telling her how much he loved her.
He whirled on the remaining crowd.
“Some of you get McNelis to the undertaker.” His lip curled in disgust, knowing the man had been on King’s payroll instead of the town’s. “He can go into the ground with his colleagues.”
Before anyone could move, Quint turned his glare on King.
“You’re the one who brought me out here, Mr. King, and you might regret that even more than you do now. Because I swear to you, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“The Ace—” King began weakly, but Quint shook his head once.
“The Ace might be acting outside the law, but the more I see of your actions, the less I believe he’s a criminal.” She, he corrected himself mentally. But Finnie had kept her secret for a long time, and he wasn’t going to reveal it to the likes of this man. “I’m loyal to a cause greater than your money, and if Mr. Douglas is right, you sound as if you’ve got plenty of trouble coming your way. I’d advise you to pay attention to that, instead of what happened today.”
King drew himself up, still cradling his wounded hand. “If you think I’m going to roll over and play dead because—”
“Because I said so, yeah,” Quint growled. He leaned closer to King, making sure the man heard the fury in his voice. “This town is under my protection now, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll focus on your own business and leave these people alone.”
“So you’re the Black Ace now?” King sneered. “How very appropriate.”
The way he said it made it clear he was talking about the color of Quint’s skin. The cut didn’t hurt, but it was clear King was past reasoning. Quint’s shoulders slumped as the exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours caught up with him. He was bone-weary of the anger and hatred and the violence and ignorance.
And he still wanted that cup of coffee.
“Go home, Mr. King.” He nodded to Burton. “Get your boss on his horse and tend to his hand. And both of you, stay the hell out of my investigation.”
He watched as the two men strode stiffly towards the opposite end of town, then exhaled softly.
It wasn’t over—far from it—but Finnie and Cinco were safe.
Most of the townspeople had disappeared, and Quint decided he just didn’t care at that moment. He lifted his eyes to the angel on the boardwalk and just about collapsed with sheer joy when she smiled at him.
Before he knew it, he was standing beside her, his gun holstered once more and her hand in his. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said in a rough whisper. “We need to talk.”
18
She couldn’t make herself let go of his hand. Even after he’d led her through the saloon’s main room and into the little kitchen she’d always think of as theirs, Finnie found herself clutching Quint’s hand. Her other hand was latched onto one of Cinco’s shoulders, and even though they stumbled a bit because the boy’s arms were tight around her middle, it was too perfect to care.
Moments ago, she’d come so damn close to losing Quint. She’d watched, wide-eyed, as he’d warned McNelis again and again, and when the sheriff had fired at Millard, Quint hadn’t hesitated to act. Her heart had leapt into her throat then, but when she’d seen King go for his gun, she lifted her rifle.
No one was going to shoot her love in the back, not while she still had breath in her body.
But now the terror was over, and it was time to come clean. And honestly, she was ready. She’d been ready for so long, but unsure how to tell Quint she was the criminal he’d come to Black Aces to arrest.
She was drained, close to collapsing, but also at a strange sort of peace.
Cinco was safe. Quint was safe. She’d do whatever he asked of her, as long as those two facts remained true.
When he pushed her into a chair, Cinco wiggled out of her grasp. “Breakfast!” was all he declared, before darting towards the counter where she’d wrapped the leftover bread from last night. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Quint’s smile was gentle when he squeezed her hand once. “I wasn’t kidding about that coffee, Finnie,” he said quietly. “Can I make you some?”
Reluctantly, she released him, and he smiled once more, before turning towards the kettle. She watched him and Cinco working, everything—especially her thoughts—feeling hazy. But as much as she wanted to sleep, part of her was too tied up in knots to consider it.
Was it possible to be too tired to sleep?
Finally, he returned with a mug of coffee for her and sat beside her at the table. They sipped in silence for a few minutes, and even though her stomach churned in nervousness, the coffee did make her feel better. She took a deep breath.
“I figure…” She cleared her throat, staring at her mug. “I suppose you know everything?”
Quint glanced over at Cinco, who was busy with a knife and the loaf over at the counter.
Did he not want the kid to know her secrets? She didn’t mind sharing them.
Not with Cinco, and not with Quint. They were her family.
“I’m the Black Ace,” she whispered the confession, but then repeated herself in a stronger voice. “I’m the Black Ace. I didn’t kill those men, but it’s been me…”
To her surprise, he merely nodded. “I know. I
held you last night, remember? I knew then.”
Well. That was…anticlimactic.
In the silence, while Finnie tried to figure out what to say, Cinco returned with five thick slices of inexpertly cut bread, smeared with jam. He proudly presented them, but Finnie couldn’t think of eating. Quint, for his part, smiled and thanked the kid while reaching for a slice. Cinco joined them at the table—either oblivious to the tension, or just not caring—and bit into a large slice.
Finally, Finnie couldn’t stand their nonchalance any longer. “I’ve been dreading you finding out, you know,” she blurted.
It was almost infuriating, how calmly he chewed and swallowed, before raising a brow in question. “Why?”
Why? Why was he taking this so well? She was the very criminal he’d come to Montana to arrest!
“Because!” She threw up one hand in exasperation, but kept the other anchored around the mug to hide its shaking. “Because the more I fell in love with you, the harder it was to keep it from you! The more I dreaded what was coming!” There. She’d said it. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she nervously stroked her braid. “I didn’t want you to have to choose.”
“Finnie,” he said, with such a gentle voice, she felt compelled to meet his gaze. When she did, he smiled. “Finnie, I love you.”
She blew out a breath and dropped her hand to the table, where he covered it in a gesture which made her heart clench.
“You said that before,” she whispered, then shook her head. “And I love you. But if it’s true, then…” This is what she’d dreaded. “I can’t ask you to ignore your duty. You need to arrest me.”
There. She’d said it. And as soon as the words left her mouth, a peace settled into her stomach. She’d never wanted to come between him and his duty, and she wouldn’t now. She turned her hand under his until their fingers were linked, determined to make him understand.
“Arrest me, Marshal Diamon. That’s why you’re here, and I would never ask you to ignore your duty.”
To her surprise, those beautiful lips—had it only been a day since she’d kissed them?—spread into a grin, and he slowly shook his head. “You care so damn much for everyone around you, Finnie Pompey. It’s one of the reasons I love you. That, and your strength. And your kisses.”
Cinco groaned around a mouth full of bread. “That’s gross, Quint.”
Both adults ignored him, but Quint’s smile didn’t ease. She didn’t understand why he was taking this so lightly.
“Stop joking around about this,” she urged.
“I’m not.” He shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I love you, that’s the truth. And”—he squeezed her hand—“I know you didn’t kill O’Grady and the others. You haven’t killed anyone.”
Cinco waved half a slice. “She’s a crack shot, you know.”
Finnie frowned at the misplaced support, but Quint just shook his head.
“Those men were killed with blades. But Hartwell was saved by a crack shot, wasn’t he? And today, I was saved by a crack shot.”
Reluctantly, Finnie nodded. “I was…” She took a deep breath. “I was with Hart and Regina when they came for him. I couldn’t let them hang him, so I dressed as the Ace.” She didn’t say where she’d gotten the disguise, and Quint didn’t ask. It wasn’t her secret to tell. “I saved him that day, yeah, but after that…”
“You became the Ace.” He nodded. “I’d just gotten to town, and I know you hadn’t been the Ace before then. But since the attempted hanging…” Quint shrugged and sat back in his chair, letting go of her hand. “Since then, the methods of the Black Ace had changed. I’d noticed his goals seemed to be more about motivating the people of the town to work together. Like yours.”
She flushed and looked into her coffee. He’d figured it out so easily. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, really. I’ve always made sure to spread the word when someone needed help, and to make sure my saloon was a place where people heard things.”
“I’d figured out the new Ace was getting his information from your campaign, but it never occurred to me he was you.”
Cinco grabbed her attention when he reached for another slice of bread. “Finnie can do anything,” he said with simple conviction, and Quint smiled.
“I believe you’re right, son.”
“And everyone worked together today,” the boy pointed out, right before he took a big bite of the bread.
Despite the tumult in her stomach, Finnie’s lips twitched. “They did, didn’t they?” she agreed softly.
“Did you poison King’s men?”
Her gaze snapped to Quint’s, and she shook her head. “It was a laxative. That was it. I doctored some coffee, and I snuck into Gomez’s store to switch out the bags.”
To her surprise, Quint started chuckling. When she frowned, he chuckled harder and shook his head.
“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just…” His chuckles died down. “If only all criminals were as polite as you—breaking into stores to leave things instead of taking them—my job would be so much easier.”
It wasn’t all that funny. “I didn’t want to hurt them. I just wanted to get King’s goons away from that mining camp on the day I knew the town would be going up there. I wanted everyone to see—”
“That the place was empty, and figure out King had bled the mine dry.” Quint nodded. “And that’s what happened. Everyone in town now knows his secrets, and it sounds as if Douglas doesn’t plan on investing. I mean, since the mine’s not producing and all.” He shrugged casually. “King’s in a world of trouble, I figure.”
She wanted to agree, but couldn’t. “King still owns the mine, and since the town sits on his land, he still controls rents. And if he controls the rents, he can control the bank accounts and lives of everyone in town. I’m…” She shook her head, not wanting to cry in front of him, but suddenly feeling hopeless. “I’m glad the townspeople all know what King has been up to, but we’re not out of danger yet. He’s going to be desperate, and desperate men do stupid things.”
“I guess that’s why the town invented the Black Ace in the first place, huh?”
The reminder made her blanch. “I just wanted them to see what King was doing. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but…I’m a criminal. The person you were sent to stop.”
“I’m not at all sure who the criminal is in these parts, Finnie, but I’m damn certain it’s not you.” Quick as a flash, his hand closed around hers again, pressing them between his warmth and the mug. “Finnie, in the time I’ve been in town, in the time you’ve been the Ace, the worst crime you’ve committed is entering Gomez’s store to leave some coffee. Regardless of what happened to that coffee after he sold it, he doesn’t strike me as willing to press charges.”
The strength of his faith stole her breath.
He doesn’t think I’m a criminal.
For so long, she’d lived in fear of him finding out her identity, and now that he had, she was humbled by his response.
“I…” She swallowed and tried again. “I didn’t kill those men last night, Quint.”
He nodded, then glanced at Cinco as if warning her not to go into details. “But you saw who did?”
“Not his face,” she whispered roughly. “But I saw him…” Kill O’Grady as easy as breathing. “He was dressed all in black, with a sort of cape instead of a coat, and wearing a bandana.” She tried to remember what else was important, what would help Quint learn the stranger’s identity. “He said the town was under his protection now. The same thing you said.”
Grinning wryly, Quint pried her fingers from the mug and entwined his through them. “Then it sounds as if there’s a new Black Ace in town.”
Her breath whooshed out in a grateful laugh as she nodded. “I knew last night was my last ride. I wanted to be done; I didn’t want to think of what it was doing to my odds of ever having a future with you! But when I heard Millard’s story, and saw no one else was stepping up…”
“I saw more people out
last night than I ever have,” Quint confessed with a head shake.
“I know!” Her smile was slow. “They were all protecting Gomez, even if they hadn’t said they would.”
He winked. “Looks like Black Aces has a whole bunch of new Black Aces!”
With a chuckle, she twisted her hand until their palms were pressed against one another. “But one less too.”
“That’s good,” he said in that delicious voice of his. “It’s one thing to declare myself the only law in town and be so determined to clean this place up. It’s a whole other affair if my wife is sneaking out at night, dressed as a man. I’d be the laughingstock of the town.”
Her breath had caught at his casual reference, and she hadn't even heard his joke. “Your wife?” she asked breathlessly.
He smiled lightly. “Will you marry me, Finnie Pompey?”
She didn’t know how it happened, but she ended up in his arms, standing in the middle of the kitchen. His skin tasted of sweat and safety and joy and struggle and fear and laughter and everything that made loving someone worthwhile.
After a long moment, she became aware of Cinco making gagging noises in the background, and it became impossible to remain in the moment the two shared between them. They pulled apart, breathing heavily. With a smile, he pressed his forehead to hers, his palms still cupping her cheeks.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered.
This wasn’t going to be easy. He was right; the worst thing she’d ever actually done as the Black Ace was breaking into Gomez’s store. But last night, it became clear there was another Ace in town, one who wasn’t willing to use her mostly peaceful methods to fight King. If anyone else ever discovered she’d been the Ace, even for a short amount of time, Quint’s loyalty would be called into question.
On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine a future which didn’t involve him. Her life was here in her home, with Cinco by her side…and Quint.
Three of a Kind: Black Aces, Book Two Page 15
