"I didn't know where else to go?" A tired scrape, and his gaze slipped over her face, coated and smeared with red dust. Dark circles of fatigue ringed her eyes, her clothes were torn and stained, her hair tangled, wild.
"Jesus, Tori." He pulled her upright; her hands were like ice. "Where have you been?"
He would never forgive her was her first thought. Never,
And she swallowed dryly before she spoke. I've looked everywhere for her. I waited for the stage coach, asked around, even went to the train station. Lucky said something about caves and mountains. I've combed every inch, Chris—" Her eyes glossed with tears. "But I can't find her. It's my job and I can't."
"Shhhh," he hushed, gathering her in his arms and she shivered. "It's all right." He slid his arm beneath her knees and scooped her off the porch.
"I can walk," she sniffled, squirming to be let down.
Chris squeezed her, hard, cutting off her breath and she gazed into dark eyes. "Don't," he growled, warning in his tone, in his piercing stare. "Just ... don't. I've had about as much of your stubborn single-minded independence that I can take." Each syllable came clipped and dry, his handsome face lined with strain. And before she could say anything he cut her off with, "Randel, the bag," and the butler retrieved the case, following his master inside. Without a word, Chris went immediately to his study, and though his heavy footfalls reeked of anger he laid her gently on the settee. He moved away quickly, turning his back on her and staring at the floor.
And Victoria's gaze moved over him, his rigid spine, his fists clenching and clenching and she thought, any second he'd swipe the lamp from the table beside him.
"Leave us," came in a low hiss and the butler set her satchel on the floor and pulled the doors closed.
The air crackled with nerve-tingling silence. And with a grimace, she swung her legs off the sofa, one hand gripping the arm.
"Look at me, Chris."
He didn't. He couldn't. His desire to hold her and shake her waged a battle inside him. And he thought if he touched her now, he might hurt her.
"Please."
It was the tone of her voice, the smoky-deep sound that brought him slowly around. And her heart slammed against the
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wall of her ribs. His face was tight, etched with emotion, with a pain she couldn't name. Blood shot eyes stared at her.
"You vanished without a trace," he rasped, tormented, wounded. She stood and limped to him and his gaze dropped to her pants, the tears, the cuts in her boots, before climbing to her face. God, to finally look at her like this again . ..
Victoria reached up, brushing a lock of black hair from his creased forehead. Her fingers trembled, and she swallowed, her throat dry with apprehension. He'd suffered. It was written in the tightness of his mouth, the smudges beneath his eyes.
"You really worried?"
His hard expression broke, and he hauled her up against him, burying his face in the curve of her throat. He chanted her name, and she clung fiercely, arms around his neck, holding tight, holding him. Don't let me go, she prayed. / need you.
Chris's fingers sank into her hair, urging her to look at him and when those feline gold eyes met his, he saw guilt and exhaustion and pain.
"I made her promise not to interfere, but—" his mouth stopped her.
Chris couldn't help it, he needed to kiss her, to feel the warmth of body against his and her lips beneath his own, to assure himself she was here, alive and in his arms. And he devoured her mouth like a man starved, laving the sweetness of her lips with his tongue. She shuddered, answering him with untamed hunger, digging her fingers into his shoulders, arching into the hard contours of his body.
Victoria couldn't get enough of him. She'd missed him like breathing, needed him so badly in the mountains when it was cold and lonely and her desperation reminded her of how forgotten she was. She wanted this man, wanted him forever and a lifetime and she couldn't have him. She knew it. It spoke to her over and over while she was in the hills digging in the dirt, searching through abandoned mines and caves and wishing she was with him, safe and warm and feeling adored—like this. But with the solid feel of him against her, the softness of his worn jeans beneath her palms as she smoothed her hand over
his buttocks, urging him to give her more, Victoria felt as if she'd finally come home.
Chris rained kisses over her face, her face. The disguise was gone, all of it. And his hands wouldn't be still, running roughly over the roundness of her hips, up her back. Nothing obstructed his touch but a thin chambray shirt beneath a short leather vest. And he wanted that gone.
"God, I missed you," he breathed softly. Now that she was here, he wasn't letting her go. "I've been going crazy, woman. Why didn't you come to me?"
"There wasn't time." She took his mouth again. "And T couldn't trust anyone to get a message to you,'' she said between kisses, capturing his jaw in her palms. Her touch inflamed him, his mouth savage and hot, taking and taking, long and deep and probing and she whimpered at the power of it, felt it sweep her body and destroy her worries for a moment, a small moment.
"Don't ever ever do that to me again." He shook her, anger
lingering.
"I won't, I swear, but I'm scared, Chris." She met his gaze.
"She's dead. I can feel it."
"I know."
Her eyes flared and she stilled.
"I found her. Lucky found her—"
She dropped her forehead to his chest, a deep shuddering breath quivering through her body before she slowly pushed out of his arms. "How's Lucky?"
"Scared. Hurting. Worried about the tall lady."
She sat hard on the sofa, drained. "Oh God." Her hand trembled as she covered her mouth, willing tears to remain submerged. I'm sorry, Vel,
Chris eased down beside her, enfolding her hand in his. "It
wasn't pretty."
She cleared her throat, a few false starts before she spoke. "She was sitting upright in white, her clothing and jewelry arranged," Victoria said in a strange tone, rote, and the hackles rose on his neck.' 'Her hair combed, hands folded, legs together, ankles to the side. She even had shoes on." She lifted her gaze
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to his, a jerk of her head tossing her hair from her eyes and she saw horror and amazement in his handsome expression. "She looked meticulously perfect, and there wasn't a drop of blood around. Except on her lips."
Chris's gaze narrowed, his heart racing. "How do you know all this, Tori?"
His words came so carefully, so measured, she frowned, her gaze sketching his features. "You think I did it?" she whispered, stunned. "No! Jesus, no!" "Well that's what it sounds like!" "It sounds like a lawman with a murder on his hands and you're the only one with answers. Answers you shouldn't have. What am I supposed to believe?"
In me, she thought, scrubbing her hands over her face. But knew she hadn't given him reason enough. Lowering her hands, she gazed at the fireplace, watching flames eat the wood. "He's killed eleven women like this, all over the country." In my time, she thought, in my world. "He murdered my best friend, Cole. Algenon Becket thinks he's on some mission of mercy or something.'' She waved tiredly.' 'Hell. I don't know anymore." "Christ almighty, Tori, when are you going to tell me the truth?" She looked to the side, her gold eyes bright."Victoria Mason doesn't exist, nor your boss. There is no warrant for Becket." God, he didn't want to get into this, not so soon. He just found her again. But he needed answers now. "A bounty hunter doesn't hunt without good reason." "He's murdered twelve—no, thirteen!" "Says you."
"And my efforts to apprehend aren't proof enough?" "Not anymore."
Victoria dropped her gaze to her hands on her lap. If she told him, she had to reveal her time travel. "I knew this was a bad idea.'' With a weary sigh, she stood and headed toward the door.
' 'Coming to me?'' That stung and he caught her hand, pulling her around to look at him. "Damn it, woman! Talk to me."
' 'I can't tell you what you want to know. It's... inflexible.'' She pulled her hand free. "And that's all there is to it."
He pushed off the settee and blocked her path. ' 'I thought you trusted me?"
"I do," she cried, her shoulders sagging. "But this isn't about trust. It's about revealing things you're never supposed to know."
He shook his head as if to clear it. "You're not making any sense."
She laughed shortly, a bitter broken sound. "I know. Isn't that a kick? If I were you I'd lock me in a padded cell and forget I existed." Her voice sounded tinny, near hysterical, even to her own ears.
"I need more," he said softly, a little pleading.
I'm going to drive this man nuts, she thought, her head pounding with pain and fatigue. She couldn't expect him to trust her word when she wasn't being honest. But the truth was dangerous.
How much more than giving the law your findings, Mason? You always have before.
"Let me think about it," she said, then moved passed him, but Chris didn't have the time for evasions and at the threshold, he blocked her again.
4 'Why was there no wound?''
Her time was up, she realized, staring at his handsome face. "There is, it's just very small. He uses a stiletto, an Italian blade—"
' 'I know what it is,'' he snapped and black eyes warred with gold and his anger gaining power. He wanted all of it and the matches told him that beyond the murders, she was still holding out.
"His blade is over nine inches long."
"Then there's the blood?" Impatient, sharp.
"He thrusts it under the ribs, straight up into the heart. He keeps it there, sort of dragging out the thrill he gets, I suppose, until the heart stops beating and the blood flow ceases. The bleeding is internal."
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Circumstances extreme. Bled internally. He's killed before. "What?" She searched his face. "What do you know?" she demanded.
His expression went instantly cynical. "Is this a trade?"
"Damn it, Chris."
"Christopher! Stop badgering the poor dear. Can't you see she's exhausted?" Abigale crossed to her, curling her arm around Victoria's waist, urging her toward the stairs. "Come lassie, we'll get you a nice bath and some breakfast and a soft bed."
That sounded too much like a slice of heaven.' 'No.'' Victoria pulled free, turning away, refusing to look at Chris. "Thank you, but no." Abigale's look pleaded, but Victoria ignored it. "I can't stay here." She wanted him so badly, wanted to share her burdens with him, be free of the sorrow and ugliness and forget she didn't belong here, in his century, in his life. She wanted to pretend at being happy for a little while, but she wasn't staying long enough to make it real. A universe separated them, and it wasn't fair—to her or to Chris.
She scooped up her satchel, heading for the door. Head down, she donned her dusty stained hat. "I can't." There was a fracture in her voice. Chris felt it down to his heels as she reached for the knob. "Tori, darlin'—"
She wrenched around, her gaze honing in on his like the lash of a whip. "Don't you darling me, Christopher Swift." The loss of her dreams sharpened her rone. "If you didn't butt your nose in my business, we'd be gone by now and maybe Vel—" Her voice caught, unexpected tears filling her eyes. It hit her all over again. "Oh Jesus." She glanced away, fighting her sorrow. "She's dead, and it's my fault." She rubbed the space between her eyes. If only she'd figured it out sooner. She could have warned Vel not to tell him about her child. "And just where do you think you're going?" She lowered her hand, hating his Papa Bear tone. "Back to work."
Chris would bind and gag her before he'd allow her to leave
his house. "You can't." He took a step. "Jesus, Tori, if what you say is true—"
"It is."
"—then you're next."
Her composure was back, a steely glint in her eyes. "It's a risk I'm willing to take." She turned the knob.
"Well, I'm not!" He crossed the foyer, closing his fingers around her wrist and pulling her away from the door. He slammed it. "I'm the law here, Victoria Mason. And this is my problem now."
She twisted free, giving him glare for glare. "Because I had him in my sights and you stopped me!"
"You didn't have cause! You still don't. It's your word against his and it will never hold up in a courtroom!"
It and the film will hold up in mine, she thought, seething. "He did it. You already have something that clues you in, I saw it in your eyes."
I'll keep my own secrets too, he thought maliciously. "Show me hard evidence, Victoria, because all I have now is you, obstructing justice. And if you set so much as a toe off this property, I'll lock you in a cell until it's over. I've let you run wild in my town—"
"Your town—?"
' 'Yes, mine,'' he growled, baring down on her so hard she stumbled back against the sealed door. "Don't push me, woman. You've put me through the worst nightmare imaginable, and I'm not about to relive it!"
A brief spark jumped in her chest, snuffed out by his chauvinism, and she shoved at his chest, forcing him to step back. "Don't tell me what to do, Christopher Swift. I'm a big girl. I work alone. You've fought me the whole nine yards, yet I still came here for your help. But nooo, now that the ball's in your court you need to play boss. Well, let me tell you, Marshal— " she advanced, poking his chest "—that I'm-the-man-and-I'll-take-over-now-honey, condescension ain't gonna cut it here!"
Suddenly, Chris caught her hand and ducked, tossing her
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over his shoulder, knocking the air from her lungs and carrying her back into his study. He kicked the doors shut, then unceremoniously dumped her on the floor. She glared up at him, swiping her hair from her view, yet every time she tried to stand, he pushed her back down. "Give up," he growled. "I win."
She spun on her rear, her long leg clipping his ankle. He landed on his rear so hard his teeth clicked.
"I call it a draw," she snapped as he pushed onto his haunches. Slowly, he tilted his head back, retribution fuming in his eyes, and he lunged, covering her body with his, mashing her to the floor. She fought him. And he clutched her head in his hands and kissed her, hard. She gripped handfuls of his hair. And he kept kissing her, deeply, thoroughly, filling her mouth with his tongue and moving with heavy torturous strokes. And she responded wildly, driving desire harder down his body and he caught the back of her knee and pulled up, spreading her thighs and wedging himself between them. She made a tight hungry sound in the back of her throat and he drank it. "You're staying here," he said against her mouth. He liked that she was gasping for breath, her skin flushed. He liked it a lot. "You're going to bathe and rest and if I have to see to the task myself, you are not leaving my house. You're in danger, Victoria Mason. Because once word gets out, mousy Clara will be under immediate suspicion because she stabbed a customer and disappeared the same time Vel did."
Victoria hadn't considered Clara would be another convenient murder suspect to make Becket feel comfortable or make him nervous that he'd been found out.
"He'll know, if he's as clever as you say. He'll know." He watched her face, her lovely expressive face as she weighed and discarded point for point. "It didn't take Noble long," he reminded.
"That's easy. I'll just change disguises—" "And I'll burn everything you own," he promised darkly. "I swear it."
She believed him. He was determined enough to tie her up
and leave her in the barn. She couldn't let that happen; the micro film was her only evidence.
"Chris." Cajoling, soft, and he steeled himself against the throaty sound.
"Am I not the law here?"
Her lips worked to hold back a response.
"Am I?"
"Yes," came gritted through clenched teeth and Chris knew he'd get her this way. Bounty hunter or not, she knew the law and honored it.
"This law says you're interfering with a murder investigation, you're in danger, and it's my duty to protect."
A brow arched. "Flexing those masculine muscles, huh?"
"No. The articles of the constitution."
She made a frustrated sound. "You can't do this without me."
"I wasn't planning on it."
She blinked. "You'll tell me everything you find?"
His brow knitted. "I recognize expertise when I see it, Tori. Of course."
She smiled, the sweetest, most delicious grin he'd ever seen on her. And he felt it dance down the pit of his stomach.
"Besides." He shrugged. "You'll just beat it out of me, anyway."
"Nah." She patted his cheek. "You're too pretty to smash." Her body softened beneath him, shifted as she cupped the back of his head, drawing him closer.
But he held back. "Partners?"
She knew what he was asking. "You can't ask how I got my information, Chris." Her gaze moved swiftly over his features as if memorizing them. And the look scared him.
"One of these days you'll really trust me, Tori," he said, then sank into her mouth, a hot slide of tongues and lips and liquid warmth and Chris groaned, moving against her, loving that she wrapped sleekly around him. Victoria knew she had everything she wanted in her arms and savored the moment, the fraction of happiness and pleasure. It had been so long
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since she'd felt this good. Then take it, a voice cried inside her heart. He's giving, so take it.
"Christopher," Abigale demanded from beyond the door, rapping impatiently. "If you do not convince that woman to eat and rest, I swear by the blood of my ancestors I will never forgive you!"
Chris broke their kiss, inhaling through locked teeth, the only sign of his tempered desire. "Abigale likes you." He pressed kisses to her temples, her cheeks. "That blood of the ancestor's thing doesn't get used unless she means business."
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