Molly grinned. “At the hands of a soaked were-coyote?” A snort broke free of her. “You’re so drunk I’m in danger of having a hangover just standing close to you.”
He growled again, apparently thinking that would finally do her in. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Putting her hands up, Molly motioned for him to attack. “Come and get it, if you think you’re man enough.”
Familiar energy prickled over her skin, caressing her in places she didn’t want to concentrate on at the moment. Moisture pooled between her legs as she drew in a deep breath. Glancing around, she looked for the source of the power.
The unseen force slid over her breasts, causing her nipples to peak and her body to tingle. Molly swayed slightly and suddenly felt as though very large, very male hands were running over her body, cupping her sex. A tiny moan escaped her lips and the power around her seemed to take on a smug vibe.
Yep, definitely male.
“Molly, watch out!” Cole yelled a second too late.
The were-coyote slammed into her, knocking the wind from her lungs. She rolled with it as bullets whizzed past her head. She knew it wasn’t her people shooting at them. It was the other outlaws. They didn’t care if they killed one of their own just so long as she died in the process.
The were-coyote pinned her to the ground and raised his arm. Claws glistened in the sunlight and Molly closed her eyes, preparing for death. Something struck the were-coyote from the side, sending him to the ground. More shots went off.
Rolling to her side, Molly froze as she stared at the form of a large man lying on top of the were-coyote. Her gut clenched when she spotted the waves of jet-black hair spilling out and around him. Hair that black, that silky, that perfect had to belong to a member of the MacSweeny family. Suddenly, she knew whose power she’d felt running over her. Her gut clenched.
“No.”
Crawling quickly, she touched the man’s shoulder. “God, no. Don’t be who I think you are. Please.” She rolled him off the shifter, not paying any attention to the were-coyote itself. As Molly’s gaze ran over the squared, strong face of the man before her, she gasped. The minute a pair of golden eyes looked up at her, she covered her mouth and shook her head. “Jonathan.”
A slow, pained smile came to his ruggedly handsome face. “Hey, Molls. I thought I’d come crash those wedding plans your daddy has for you.”
Wedding plans?
She stared down at the man who had been her childhood sweetheart, her best friend growing up, her everything. Blood seeped freely from several chest wounds and for a moment, Molly forgot how to breathe.
He reached for her. “Molls, don’t cry.”
I do not cry.
As he touched her cheek, she realized she was indeed crying. His hand was rough, callused, but she didn’t care. Turning her head a bit, Molly planted a tiny kiss on his palm before slipping her hand over his and holding it to her.
“Jon, I’m so sorry.” She looked up to find that the other outlaws had scurried away.
Cowards.
Her gaze fell upon another tall, dark-haired man. He had MacSweeny written all over him as well. As his unnaturally colored lavender eyes wandered in her direction, she began to shake. “Eli, get Doc Bakenston! Jonathan’s been shot!”
“I can’t, Molly. Doc’s dead. Been dead for about six years now. But you don’t have to worry about Jon. He’ll be just—”
Rage tore through her. She glared at the thing that had caused Jonathan to be shot. Cole had the were-coyote, who had taken human form again, held at gunpoint. Molly’s hands shook with fury. “You fucking bastard! My Jonathan was hurt because of you!”
“Molly!” Eli said, no doubt shocked by her language—that or her claim on Jonathan. She didn’t really care.
Glancing down at Jonathan, she took a deep breath in. “Do you still carry weapons in the same places?”
His brow furrowed as he nodded. Running her hand down the length of his jean-covered leg, Molly found a hunting knife in his boot and pulled it out. She raked it over her palm, cutting it deep and wide. Jonathan gasped. She ignored him as she put her bloody hand to one of his chest wounds.
Closing her eyes, Molly focused on her power. The magik she’d been born possessing but taught to be ashamed of. Taught to hide. The magik she’d even hidden from Jonathan. Cole and Lynnette knew about it. So did her uncle. But her father had been the one to insist she never use it. Good thing she wasn’t a daddy’s girl. Her magik buzzed around her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.
“I bind you to me, Jonathan Thomas MacSweeny. Should you try to cross over, my spirit will follow yours. As it once was written, so it shall be,” she whispered, repeating words he’d spoken to her when she was but sixteen years old. The words had forged a one-sided bond, locking her spirit to his as she had been on death’s doorstep ten years ago, when Jonathan had refused to let her die. He’d gone so far as to scare her into believing if she gave in to death, he’d follow her. It worked. Hopefully, the reverse would work as well. Should Jonathan choose not to fight, Molly was more than willing to back up her claim. She would die with him. It didn’t matter if a hundred years passed between seeing him, she would always love Jonathan.
Now, as the threads of magik, earth, spirit and the unknown began to weave what once was a one-sided bond into two, Jonathan shook his head frantically. “No, Molls. No. If I—”
“If you die, you stubborn jerk, you will take me with you. Use the strength I’ve given you to fight or tell me if you’re planning on giving up now. I want enough time to kill the bastard who did this to you, Jonathan.” Fearing she’d lose her nerve, Molly did the one thing she’d wanted to do since she’d met Jonathan MacSweeny—she kissed him.
It was chaste, yet full of more passion than most kisses she’d had. As she drew back, Molly brushed Jonathan’s hair away from his tanned face. “My apologies to your wife. I just had to…well, I just had to. I can’t offer anything more. I’ll be right back.”
She stood quickly and found Cole staring at her with wide eyes. “You just kissed that guy.”
“I didn’t fall on him and fuck the living hell out of him. I didn’t even use my tongue.” Molly snorted. “Why am I explaining this to you?”
“Because,” Cole said with a sexy smile, “I’m your fiancé and I’m loving the fact you’ve got no problem talking about fucking the living hell out of someone while in public. Mmm.”
Arching a brow, Molly ignored Cole’s comment and focused on the outlaw before him. “You are a dead man.”
The man laughed. “You can’t touch me. Law says you gotta take me in for a hearing now, Magikal Marshal Molly.”
She cringed, hating the name they’d given her. As the man glanced at Jonathan, a huge smile spread over his face. “He’s gonna die and I’m gonna spend the rest of my nights knowin’ I killed the great huntress’ mate.”
“Her mate?” Cole asked, giving the guy a good, hard shove. “I’m tempted to kill you for her.”
The man sneered and Molly rolled her eyes. “Jonathan is a lot of things but he’s not my mate. And—” She raised her weapon, aiming at his head. “—you aren’t going to see a trial. Your life ends here and now.”
His eyes widened. So did Cole’s. “Y-You can’t shoot me in cold blood. You’ll hang.”
“Like I give a shit if I hang. I’m as good as dead as it is, asshole. Jon has a chest full of bullets in him and I fully intend to follow him when he goes. To see you die, I’ll wrap the noose around my own neck.”
“Molly,” Lynnette said, her voice low, peaceful, the model of serenity. “Calm down, honey. The man’s right. We need to take him before a judge. He surrendered to Cole that means he gets a trial. Doing anything else would make you no better than them and you don’t want that.”
“Uncle William!” Molly stood, never taking her gaze off the man. When she sensed her uncle’s presence, she spoke, “This man wants to go before the judge. He shot Jonathan. Unloaded a cl
ip into him. He’s also wanted in connection with scores of other murders. I’ve been chasing him and his gang for months. Apparently, they’ve been hunting me too. Can I shoot him now?”
The man gulped. “Y-your u-uncle’s the j-judge?”
“Stutter much, asshole?” She nodded as a sick smile moved over her face.
The man paled considerably. “I demand a lawyer.”
Eli cleared his throat. “Judge Wheeler, I’d be happy to represent this man. He did shoot my kin. I’m sure I can be fair.”
Molly rounded on him. A puff of dust rose around her and she coughed as she aimed her weapon at Eli’s chest. “He shot Jonathan. He doesn’t deserve you representing him.” She paused, thinking about what that meant. “When the hell did you become a lawyer?”
He smiled, giving her the famous MacSweeny ‘get me out of anything’ one. “When did you become a sexy gun-toting, foul-mouthed hellcat, Special Marshal?”
Molly didn’t answer him. He’d made his point. They’d both changed. She cocked her gun. “Eli, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. Jonathan’s death won’t go unpunished. I’ll not chance this rounder getting off. He’ll not kill again.”
“No, he won’t.” Eli grinned, looking all too cocky.
“Lil’ princess, don’t shoot Eli. Allow him to do his job,” her uncle said, calming her a tiny bit. “You may remember him as a hair-pulling brat with too much time on his hands but he’s matured into a fine lawyer and man.”
She shrugged. “Fine, I won’t shoot Eli, but I’m still killing the outlaw regardless of the verdict.”
“You can’t do that,” the outlaw bellowed, shock evident on his face.
Cole snickered, looking as though he was having way too much fun messing around with the outlaw. “Watch her. She tends to do whatever the hell she wants to do.”
Under different circumstances, Molly would have let Cole toy with the man. This was different. This was the man who had caused Jonathan harm. The minute she found the man who actually fired the weapon, she’d kill him without alerting the others. There would be no trial for him either.
Eli chuckled. “Judge, my client is guilty. I recommend execution at first light.”
Stunned, Molly just stared at Eli as he winked at her. Her uncle laughed. “Funny, I was leaning towards that on my own, son.”
“Great, let’s eat. I’m starvin’ and you know your wife put together a heck of a spread in there on account of Molly’s return.” Eli did a rather dramatic pat of his stomach while he wagged his brows. It was adorable in ways only a MacSweeny could pull off.
“I’m with him,” Parker said. “Let’s eat.”
Molly watched as Parker pushed up from the ground, dusted himself off and strolled leisurely to his brother’s side. “I bet that hurt like hell, Jon. Regretting your decision to charge in and save the day?”
Jonathan grunted. “Yeah, it hurt but the thought of Molly being injured hurt a hell of a lot worse, brother. I wouldn’t change a thing.” He put his hand up. “Less talk. More help.”
Parker snickered. “Nah, I think you should lie there. Molly might kiss you again if she thinks you’re gonna die.”
“Jon, you were…are…shot, a lot,” she gulped, “in the chest no less. I-I saw it…Jon?”
Grinning at her, he pulled his black T-shirt up. She watched as the bullets seemed to work themselves out of his body and fall to the ground with the tiniest of plunking sounds. A second later, the wounds healed over, leaving nothing but sheer perfection in its place.
He’s a shifter.
The area around Molly seemed to spin fast. She blinked twice and knew then what was happening—she was about to faint.
I do not faint.
Chapter Five
Molly woke to the smell of bacon frying and fresh-baked biscuits. Her stomach growled, signaling just how hungry she was. The scent of sandalwood and pine entered into the mix, confusing her. She turned slightly, realizing that she was in a bed rather than on a blanket beneath the stars. She was also wearing a man’s long-sleeved white shirt and her black thong. Her leather pants, shirt and bra were missing. The sheer fabric left her nipples showing.
The light cotton material was a sharp contrast to her normal leather and Molly hated to admit just how good it felt against her skin. Breathable. Airy. Perfect. She also didn’t want to acknowledge how fantastic it smelled—sandalwood and pine—the scent had always reminded her of Jonathan.
Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed, not really wanting to get up but knowing she had to. Her muscles ached, not with pain so much as what came from deep sleep. That wasn’t something she was used to. “Cole, where are my clothes?”
No answer.
Several over-stuffed pale blue pillows caught her attention. As Molly touched one, she shook her head. They were identical to the dream pillows she’d made with her aunt when she was younger. She’d had every intention of giving them to Jonathan for a birthday present but had chickened out in the end, making her aunt swear not to tell him.
Molly could still remember how much she’d wanted to take away Jonathan’s bad dreams. It was by accident she’d found out Jonathan was plagued by nightmares. One lazy summer day, he’d dozed off under the shade of the maple tree by the river. Within minutes he was screaming out, desperately trying to hold onto someone or something. Seeing him like that, vulnerable, left a lasting impression on her. She’d mentioned what had happened to her Uncle William, who in turn had her aunt help her with the dream pillows.
They were said to help ward off bad dreams. Molly snickered, thinking about how foolish and gullible she’d been at that age. At the time, she’d decided if one pillow was supposed to help then four would surely eliminate the nightmares completely.
“Such a fool.”
Sitting up, Molly stared around the room. The king-sized four-post bed she lay in sat in the center of the large, soft yellow room. Mahogany dressers flanked the walls near the bedroom door. Nothing on them betrayed who their owner was.
This was not her father’s home. Yes, it had an air of wealth to it but it had something her childhood home had lacked—heart. The bed looked as though it had been hand-carved. While that wasn’t something her childhood lacked, it was something that was individual to the piece and whoever had carved this cared.
She ran her hand out and over the edge of the bed and stopped when she spotted a long, white muslin dress with the tiniest of flowers embroidered down the length of it. Molly reached for it but hesitated. Wherever she was, it belonged to someone else. It didn’t matter how pretty it was, with its bouquet pattern on the bodice. It wasn’t hers.
Why do you even want to wear some silly dress anyway?
Molly knew the answer to her own question—because it was beautiful. The matching white slippers with long silk ribbon ties that lay at the foot of the bed only served to make it all the more appealing. As much as Molly prided herself on her ability to run around in a male-dominated territory, she still liked pretty things.
Looking around, she was positive she wasn’t in her uncle’s home either. Molly stood and began searching for a personal Frontier Stall panel, anything that would give her access to the territory’s general computer database. Often homes had individual ones linked to mainframes. She found nothing. It was then she noticed the oil lamps sitting on a set of bedside tables that were absolutely beautiful.
“Great, I’m in the house time forgot.”
Molly had been to plenty of other territories over the past ten years. Each was vastly different—a world all unto itself. She’d learned in history courses it didn’t used to be quite as bad, long ago. Once, there had been countries, nations. That was before The Great Sickness had come and wiped out a large chunk of the population, leaving the survivors devastated and scarce in numbers.
Major environmental changes had occurred around the same time. Tidal waves took out countries, tornados wiped out states, and earthquakes swallowed huge chunks of nations, leaving islands or nothing in th
eir wake. It wasn’t a time she’d have wanted to live in. That was seven hundred years ago and a few territories still felt the effects of it.
Some territories found themselves overrun with supernaturals because they’d had a natural immunity to The Great Sickness that had swept through the human race. It was said to have originated from a combination of pollution, technology and germ warfare. Molly wasn’t for sure. No one was. Scientists continued to study the time, doing their best to figure out what, exactly, had gone wrong to prevent it from happening again but they had not, as of yet, found the answers.
Certain territories modeled themselves after what they had once known. The Old World Territory, across the ocean, had done its best to retain the beauty of what had once been called Europe. Earthquakes had left what had once been called Asia a mass of independent islands, each their own territory now.
The New Frontier Territory stood strong on what used to be called the United States of America, Mexico, part of South America and Canada. It was a bit harsher than some territories. Its people were rugged, independent, refusing to be labeled under the banner of The Old World Territory just as Molly had read the people of the area had once done, long ago. For the most part, they all co-existed. It just seemed to be the New Frontier folk were a bit harder around the edges.
Hard around the edges.
She snorted. That just about summed her up.
Most of the wars that took place now occurred between planets, not territories. The biggest problem the territories faced domestically was policing their criminals. Each had a different set of bad guys and an equally different way of handling them. As a Special Marshal, she was required to learn every territory’s customs, respect and uphold them.
Molly snorted. “Right.”
Tossing open the bedroom door, she expected to find Cole and Lynnette there, laughing it up about her fainting. She didn’t find either of them. Staring at the tawny back of solid muscle, Molly debated moving, letting the man know she was there. He was six feet five inches of pure perfection and he was making breakfast. Her mouth watered for both the food and the man.
Blaze of Glory Page 3
