Cowboys and Supernaturals
Blaze of Glory
Mandy M. Roth and Rory Michaels
Blaze of Glory © copyright by Mandy M. Roth and Rory Michaels, September 2011
Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the authors, Mandy M. Roth and Rory Michaels.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
Published by Raven Books
www.ravenhappyhour.com
Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2011
Chapter One
New West Frontier, Prospect Springs, New Earth, 2807
“Jon, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t go riding into town, kicking up a row and laying claim to another man’s property.”
Jonathan MacSweeny glared at his best friend and cousin, Eli MacSweeny. Jonathan’s temperament had been bad to start with. It only worsened since he’d gotten up and this wasn’t helping it along any. At the current rate of progression, he’d be likely to shoot fire from his eyes and tear a man limb from limb before the night was out. The first was out of reach even for someone like Jonathan, but the second was a distinct possibility.
“Just because the man had a hand in fatherin’ her doesn’t mean he owns her,” Jonathan stressed. “And if I feel like making a scene, I will.” He fisted the reins of his horse—the need to be on their way was great for Jonathan. Every second they delayed was a second he could have had with the woman who turned him inside out with nothing more than a glance.
“According to the law, her daddy does own her. Least ‘til she’s married off, then her husband does.” Eli tipped his head slightly, sending dark strands of hair over his shoulders. The jet-black hair was a MacSweeny trait, one the ladies seemed to adore and the church-going elderly women seemed to take as a sign of the devil. Probably didn’t help much that the boys had inhuman eyes. They weren’t exactly human so it sort of went hand-in-hand.
Thankfully, over the years, the religious people in Prospect Springs had come to understand that although by all outward appearances the MacSweeny family was touched by the devil, they meant no harm and were honest boys. Who and what they were wasn’t a total secret because the rumors floated. The boys did nothing to stop the scuttlebutt.
Almost all of them had remained in the area. None had started families yet. It was probably a good thing since there were so many of them. Hell, there were four in his immediate family alone. Eli had two brothers. That had them up to seven already and Jonathan hadn’t even begun to think about his other two uncles and their boys.
All boys.
All rowdy.
All different.
All special.
“The law is wrong, Eli,” Jonathan said. “Plain and simple, the man has no right to force his daughter to wed a lecherous bastard just because it’ll get his parish bigger donations. Gerald Wilson is a snake who has raped more women than not and I’m not about to let him get his hands on Molly.”
Again.
He didn’t voice his last concern but it was evident from the tension that filled the area. Jonathan would rot in the pits of hell before he ever allowed Gerald Wilson near Molly again. He’d spent a decade regretting having been foolish enough to leave her accessible to Gerald to begin with. He should have claimed her as his mate the minute he’d realized that’s what she was to him.
It was an absurd thought and he knew it. They’d been too young for him to go with his gut. Gerald hadn’t cared a bit about Molly’s innocence. For that alone Jonathan had watched the bastard from a distance, waiting for him to step out of line so he’d be justified in killing him.
“Yap, yap, yap,” Parker, Jonathan’s older brother, said, as he rode up next to him. He steadied his horse and nodded out toward the night. “I hear ya talkin’, little brother, but I don’t hear you saying what it is you’re going to do to rectify the situation.”
“Rectify?” Eli grinned. It didn’t take much to figure out he was in the mood for mischief. “Trust the doctor to swoop in and start up with fancy words. We might need to stop by a Frontier Stall and look that there one up.”
Parker put his middle finger in the air and offered a cocky smile. “Doctor that, asshole. And seems to me the lawyer in the family would have some pull in regards to changing the laws but it’d appear you are as worthless as your last girlfriend claimed you to be.” He let his middle finger droop slowly as his gaze slid to Eli’s groin.
Eli shrugged. “Seein’ as how I had her screaming my name out in ecstasy behind the General Store I can’t see how I’d be labeled worthless. A bit randy maybe, but worthless? No.” He rubbed his chin, doing his best to conceal a wicked grin. They got entirely too much joy out of poking fun at one another. “As far as laws go, I don’t get to change ‘em. I only get to twist the already existing ones to my advantage.”
Jonathan’s ears perked as he fingered his sidearm and then his badge. The silver burned slightly as he touched it but still, his hand remained. It was a reminder of not only who he was but what he was. He was the sheriff but was also more than a man. The beast, who suffered a sensitivity to silver, swore an oath to protect Molly and the man supported the decision wholeheartedly. The two had come to a conclusion long ago—she was not to be harmed and, one day, she would be his. “Got any law-twisting planned, cousin?”
“A whole lot of begging, Jon. That’s ‘bout it.” Eli chuckled. “Well, that and I told Parker to bring along some aspirin. You might need it after you go and get yourself hung over a woman. Be thankful a hangin’ won’t kill ya. Just make your head and neck hurt for a few days. Now, if they decide to run silver spikes through your heart or chop your head off, well, that’s another matter.”
“Wonderful.” He didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm. “And thanks for the show of support. It warms me to know my kin are positive I’ll get my neck snapped before the day’s out.”
The tiny snort that came from Eli wasn’t lost on him, neither was the piercing gaze the man gave him. Those lavender eyes always seemed to know the truth.
Eli stated the obvious anyway. “Jon, this is an awful lot of trouble to go through for a girl you ain’t even seen since she was but knee-high. What’s it been? Ten years now?”
It was the truth. Jonathan hadn’t seen Molly Cogan since she was sixteen but that didn’t matter any. When word of her father’s plans reached him, he’d been blinded by rage. Molly had been a free spirit, a female renegade. So much so, her father had sent her away, shamed by her even though there was nothing to be ashamed about. Molly was a rare treasure, or at least she had been.
And damn well always will be, MacSweeny.
He smiled as his inner voice chastised him as quickly and as sharply as Molly would. He held tighter to the reins of his horse. It would’ve been faster to take his steel steed. They were built to look like real horses except for the legs. Steel steeds had none. They hovered just off the ground, six to eight inches. Jonathan had mounted handlebars on the neck of his. They helped to steer better and allowed him to lean forward more, cutting wind resistance. All the MacSweeny boys had steel steeds but the damn mechanical beasts tended to be unpredictable and since they ran on both fuel and solar power, one needed to be sure one had plenty of both. Fuel wasn’t an issue, it was sunlight. There wasn’t a whole heck of a lot of it left for the day and there was no way in hell Jonathan was gonna chance anything ruining him getting to Molly. No,
he’d take what was tried and true, his mare.
“Let’s ride.”
Chapter Two
Molly Cogan rubbed the palms of her hands over her leather-clad thighs, desperate to remove the sweat from them as she peeked out from under her wide brim hat. She’d taken off her fingerless gloves, knowing she might have to shoot her way out of a sticky situation. She liked her bare hands on the handle of her weapon.
The need to blend in with the men around her was great and sometimes difficult. It wasn’t like she’d set out long ago with the hopes of living in a man’s world, doing a man’s job and risking her life. It just happened that way. It wasn’t her dream so much as it was her reality and, currently, her reality demanded she blend in. Her height helped. At five-eight she was taller than most women but there wasn’t much she could do to hide her feminine curves. The best she’d been able to come up with over the years was wearing a long, oversized leather duster. It wasn’t as if she could tape her breasts down and still be able to breathe comfortably.
She glanced out at an equally tall woman in a blue silk dress, but spoke to the person next to her. “She’s doing a damn fine job of being me.”
Cole, her best friend and right-hand man, chuckled. “Lynn’s had eight years of watching your spunk to get it right, Molly. I don’t want to go getting in trouble here but she’s way more comfortable in that there dress than you’d ever be.”
Snorting, Molly watched her friend Lynnette pretend to be a shy, coy lady of class as she prepared to exit the stagecoach as it gave it one last whistle—its steam releasing from the vent on top. The coachman jabbed the release button on the side of the coach and iron steps sprang forth from a compartment just below the passenger area. The steps formed, making a loud clunking sound as they did. When they struck the hard, worn earth, the noise ended. The coachman held out his hand to Lynnette. Politely, she accepted it, taking each step slowly as if second-guessing her decision.
Lynnette’s long, chestnut brown hair was kissed by the sun in various places, as was Molly’s, leaving streaks of blonde running through it. Often people remarked on their similarities, assuming they were sisters. They were nothing of the sort. They were closer than sisters. A bond forged by years of running free in a man’s world. A bond so close it had somehow managed to make Lynnette think she was helping by sacrificing herself to the “greater” good.
Anger rippled through Molly as she watched her friend act as if she was her. When she’d woke a week prior and realized Lynnette was not only gone, but gone with the intent of pretending to be her, Molly had wanted to spit nails. That had lessened a bit, only to be replaced by constant worry. She and Cole had ridden as fast as their steel steeds could travel to track her down.
Cole treated his steed like it was his baby. Molly wasn’t as careful in her upkeep and it showed. Hers had multiple rust spots, broken seals, a problem with stopping fast and most recently a hairline-cracked cylinder with a partially working piston. It made her steed temperamental and unpredictable, traits Cole said reminded him of her. The thing was tried and true. It had gotten her to Lynnette just in the nick of time, from the looks of it.
Molly’s insides churned. Sweat trickled down her back, between her shoulder blades. Losing Lynnette wasn’t an option. They were a family, no matter how mismatched it was.
Lynnette offered a small smile, careful to keep her gaze averted from the group of men she was meeting. Molly knew why. They looked similar enough until you got to their eyes. Where Lynnette’s were blue as the sky, Molly’s were emerald green. As she watched her father put his arm out to Lynnette, Molly knew the man had no clue it wasn’t really his daughter he was greeting. The ten years since she’d last seen him had left him looking older. Less intimidating. Less all knowing. His snow-white hair was slicked back and his face looked thinner than before. Signs of age and life’s day-to-day wear and tear were evident.
It pained her to see him that way. In her eyes, her father was immortal. If only everlasting life were real then maybe she’d have time to win his approval. Doubtful. She was neither a man nor a submissive female. She also didn’t put a lot of stock in his blind faith. Her father had wanted a son. All he got was an unruly daughter.
She watched carefully as her Uncle William, her deceased mother’s only living relative, greeted Lynnette. He tensed and his gaze instantly darted around the crowd.
He knew it wasn’t her.
Molly’s chest tightened. If Uncle William gave away her secret, she’d lose the element of surprise and their plan would be foiled. She felt it then, the magikal pull her uncle had always had over her, separating them from humans. Her mother had possessed it as well, but her father did not. The power drew her gaze to her uncle’s from across the crowd.
His green gaze locked on hers. The corners of his mouth tugged slightly as though he were biting back a smile. He nodded and put his hand out to Lynnette. “There’s my lil’ princess.”
Shocked her uncle had not only realized Lynnette wasn’t her but had gone with the charade all the same, Molly took a tiny step back, bumping into something hard and all too masculine—Cole.
He chuckled, his scent wrapping around her. He smelled like dust from the road and oil from repairing one of their steel steeds. His face even had a light dusting of dirt from how hard they’d ridden to make it in on time. She glanced back at him, noticing his riding goggles hanging loosely around his neck.
“A little to the left and you can scratch that itch of mine,” said Cole, laughing in her ear.
She elbowed him in the rib cage, met only muscle, and winced as pain shot through her arm. “For the love of dick, would you please shut up?”
Cole choked on nothing and coughed loudly. “For the love of…?” He touched her shoulder. “Molly, I think I love you. Your mouth spins the sexiest of phrases.”
Rolling her eyes, she cracked a smile as she shrugged his hand off her. “Of course you do. All men do. I’m downright irresistible.” Molly would have said more but a group of men picked that moment to come moving in from the shadows. Bile rose in her throat as the leader set his sights on Lynnette. The man’s face had haunted her dreams for years. “Gerald Wilson.”
Cole went for his weapon and Molly grabbed his arm. The last thing she needed was Cole on trial for killing a man who reeked of evil but always managed to stay two steps ahead of the law. “No.”
“But, you said Gerald Wilson. That’s the man you told me—”
Molly put her hand up, stopping Cole in mid-sentence. “I know what he did, Cole. I was there. I’ll never forget.” She sighed. “Just watch. This isn’t about him. Not today anyway.”
Though it will be before I leave.
“If he hurts one hair on Lynn’s head, I’ll—”
Molly laughed. “Cole, you know as well as I do Lynn would have Gerald’s cock severed and halfway across the galaxy in two shakes of a rattlesnake’s tail if he dared to lay a hand on her. She’s fine. Better than fine. What the girl can’t hex, she manages to beat the tar out of, so I’m comfortable in the assumption Gerald Wilson won’t be getting very far in the advances category with her—not if he wants to keep his manhood intact.”
Not wanting to trust her own instincts, Molly fingered the whip she carried on her side. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She wasn’t sixteen, scared, naïve. She wouldn’t run from the big, scary, all-powerful man again.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
Her father turned and greeted Gerald with a firm handshake. The idea of touching the man repulsed her. “Ah, glad you could make it. I—” Her father wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, appearing nervous. “—haven’t had a chance to talk with Molly yet about our arrangement.”
Arrangement?
Her uncle’s gaze caught hers once more. Something in his eyes told her not to interfere. She listened, quietly observing from the sidelines as Lynnette did what Molly was never extremely comfortable doing—playing the part of an obedient lady.
&
nbsp; Lynnette offered up a tight-lipped smile. “Daddy, you keepin’ secrets from me?”
“No, Molly.” Her father put his body between Lynnette’s and Gerald’s. “Just a surprise, that’s all. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Funny, he didn’t sound sure.
Running a hand through his long, wavy blond hair, Gerald bit at his lower lip. It took everything in Molly not to lash out at him, remembering all too well what that face had looked like leering down at her with nothing but wicked lust shining in his eyes. “Molly, long time no see. It’s mighty good to have you ‘round these parts again.”
Lynnette handled Gerald with grace. He tipped his hat to her and she gave a bow, her gaze never moving from him. He offered his arm and Lynnette took it, the fake smile pressed to her face never wavering. Within seconds Lynnette found an excuse to release her hold on Gerald’s arm. Molly chanced a guess that Lynnette could sense what a scumbag Gerald was and didn’t want his residual sleaziness leaking onto her.
Molly wanted to pummel the bastard. To bash his arrogant head against the building until she was positive he’d never hurt another living soul. She couldn’t worry about him now. She had to worry about the group of outlaws who were looking to score prized kills—namely, her and Cole. Mostly just her though. The reward on her head seemed to grow daily. It could have a little to do with her kill-to-obtain ratio but she wasn’t sure.
As paranormal bounty hunters, Special Marshals, they tended to have to kill most of their targets. It didn’t matter. They were paid regardless. Plus, they kept the prison population down. Seemed like a winning situation to her. The outlaws didn’t quite see it that way. The group in question were the reason Lynnette had come up with the harebrained idea of pretending to be Molly.
Molly watched the crowd carefully, sensing something wasn’t quite right. When Lynnette stiffened, she knew her friend sensed it too. Lynnette’s psychic abilities weren’t something Molly questioned.
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