His Most Wanted

by Sandra Jones

  Her heart squeezed as she admired his face, hands and stance as he aimed and fired with grace. The target shuddered from the impact of the bullet but remained upright.

  “Your turn.” Kit offered her the gun handle with a slight bow.

  His eyes twinkled with pleasure, making her wonder at his purpose for this little lesson. She took the gun tentatively. “You seem pleased with yourself. It was a good shot, but I’m not sure I’m as impressed as I was when you shot the thief from the club.”

  His smile slipped. “I had good reason to make that shot, as you well know. Growing up alone and abundantly privileged, I had a lot of time on my hands. Over the years, I taught myself how to aim. When it really matters, I make sure I get the job done.”

  “You’ve killed men intentionally?” She cringed with a dose of guilt. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  He glanced down, grinding his boot into the rocky soil. “I’ve been challenged to duels, confronted by men who wished to kill me because they didn’t like the hand of cards they’d been dealt…or the fact that I’d slept with their women. Men like McGruder who’ve tried to murder me first. I’ve never set out to kill anyone, but when my back’s been against a wall, I’ve tried my damnedest to be the one walking away after the smoke clears.”

  Knowing exactly how it felt to be cornered and have to defend herself, she nodded. The gun was suddenly heavy in her hands.

  Wishing to change the subject, she forced a smile. “I haven’t seen the Mississippi since I was a child. I’ll bet you’ve enjoyed riding those steamboats and seein’ all the sights on your voyages.”

  Kit’s face relaxed. “I’ll take you on one someday, and you can meet some of my friends. I know a card-playing lady you’d probably like. Name’s Philadelphia Campbell, one of the finest players I’ve ever faced and the wife of my captain friend, Rory.”

  She let her arm hang, hiding the gun in her skirt. Maybe he would forget the lesson if she kept him talking. “Really? A lady gambler? How extraordinary. If they’re friends of yours, I’d like to meet them both.”

  “They run the Athena now. It’s quite the palace. There’s a fine piano on their steamboat too, and lots of dancing.”

  “Oh, I wish my ladies could visit too. Millie would like seeing another piano. The one she plays in the Willows was her mother’s. She’s inseparable from the instrument, even though she never knew the lady who played it first.” She glanced in the direction of Fort McNamara, feeling the tug at her heart for her family. “Millie’s mother died giving birth to her. She was a prostitute too. Worked with my mother. Some rich benefactor gave her the piano in lieu of money for her services.”

  Wistfulness filled her soul. Both she and Millie had been born into their trade and had done nothing to change their stars. Millie kept hoping someone would come along some day to rescue her from her condition, but at least Cora had made the best of her situation, taking control of the club, managing it, making it safe for the others to work there. No more babies had been born under their roof since she’d taken the reins and enforced the use of preventative measures.

  Kit moved close to her and reached out, cupping her cheek in his gentle hand. “Let’s see how you shoot, sweetheart. Then we’ll go rest a spell too.” He traced his thumb over her lip and her stomach quivered with delicious anticipation.

  Finding no way to avoid his persistence, she sighed. “Okay. You win.”

  She turned her shoulders toward the target, feeling Kit standing close behind her. Then she lifted her right arm, extended the pistol and took aim. Looking at her hand gripping the weapon, her thoughts wheeled back to the boarding house room, to the bloodstained floor and the sound of her own heartbeat when she realized Sidlow wasn’t breathing.

  Her hand shook. She gritted her teeth, putting all her effort into making her wrist and hand steady. It was no use. If she pulled the trigger now, there was no telling where the bullet would wind up.

  She exhaled and took her finger off the trigger. “I can’t. It’s too hot today, and I’ve been cleaning up the house. I’m tired—” She turned around.

  Kit frowned, watching her with concern in his eyes. “Ready to talk about it?”

  Ah, so that was what this was about. He wanted her to tell him about the night she shot the lawman.

  “No.” Reaching deep within for strength, she wheeled back and took aim again.

  “Pretend you’re angry, if it helps.” He moved closer. She felt the heat of his body at her back. “The target is one of the men who hurt you.” His voice was hard, pressuring her, perhaps intentionally.

  “No,” she ground out. “You’re not helping.” Her hand shook harder. She tried a two-handed grip. Now the tremors ran up her arms to settle in her bent elbows.

  “Don’t you want to put a bullet in the eye of McGruder? You aimed your gun at him steady enough while we were on the trail.” He closed his hands around her waist, his taunting voice right behind her ear.

  Did he think she was a murderer after all? Was he trying to provoke her? Did he think if she got scared, she’d turn the gun on him too? She wouldn’t. Why would he think such a thing?

  Nothing in her miserable life had prepared her for the loss of respect from someone she liked and…maybe even cared for. “That’s because I was protecting us, Kit. I didn’t want to kill him.” Desperation engulfed her now so that she could hardly keep the pistol aloft. If she did nothing else, she had to explain. “I didn’t want to kill Sidlow either.” Her eyes filled with hot, stinging tears.

  Kit took the gun from her and pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest. “You’re no murderer. I’ve known enough killers in my days to recognize the difference between good and evil.”

  His embrace offered the strength she needed. She pressed her cheek to his heart and breathed deeply, closing her eyes, letting his touch comfort her as he stroked her back. He’d only been goading her to make her open up, and now she felt safe, comforted and something she’d never experienced in her life…

  Cherished.

  Kit kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, Cora. You can tell me as little or as much as you want. But trust me, you’ll never put your first killing behind you if you don’t talk about it. I’m trying to help you, I promise. What happened in that room?”

  Kit was right. There wasn’t anyone else she could tell about the horrible night, no one else safe to unburden her soul to. Only Kit. And strangely enough, even though she shouldn’t, she sensed she could trust him with her dark secret.

  She took a deep breath, released it and began recounting the events. “I’d been paying Sidlow for years so he and his deputy would watch over the Willows and the other houses on the Row. I’d never had any trouble before. But one day he sent word he wanted to talk to me in private, said he had business to discuss. I figured he wanted to raise the payments. He’d done it in the past.” She rolled one shoulder. “Instead, when I arrived at his room, he asked for a partnership with me and the Willows. I couldn’t believe my ears. I mean…why would I give up that kind of control? He said he had something I’d be interested to know, something that would make the Willows a wealthy establishment. I said I wasn’t interested. He’d been drinking. I’d never seen him that way before. The liquor and whatever he wanted to tell me had him excited, arrogant.”

  She closed her eyes, putting herself in the room again, making sure she told it right. “He forced me against a wall, wouldn’t let me loose. He had my skirt pulled up, his hands in my drawers. I’d always known he wanted me, but he’d never touched me before. I pulled the gun out of my jacket and held it between us. I told him to stop, that he didn’t know what he was doing. But he refused, said I was a whore and he was sheriff.” Tears choked her. She held Kit tighter, fearing to look into his face, that she might see his doubt. “He told me he was entitled to me for all he’d done for me in the past, and that I couldn’t shoot him. I sw
ore I would. Then he unfastened his belt. I couldn’t get loose no matter how hard I pushed and struggled, so I pulled the trigger.”

  Kit was silent and still as he listened. Then he caressed her shoulders. “I guess you showed him.” His voice was light and warm. “I’ve always believed if you have the last word, you should at least be correct.”

  She blinked, uncertain if she’d heard him right. Then, leaning back, she found his expression was blank, dead serious. “I killed him, you understand? He tried to rape me, and I shot him dead. I’m Velvet Grace. I wear the hood to hide my identity and scare the daylights out of men who trouble the women around here.”

  “Oh, I understand. Now I know you can pull the trigger. Turn around, aim and put a bullet in that board before I change my mind about this lesson and decide to carry you into the barn to take up where we left off this morning.” Dropping his hands from her, he backed away a few steps.

  Her mouth fell open as surprise and hot outrage rolled over her. “After all I just told you?” How dare he make light of her situation.

  “Don’t get mad at me. Get mad at the next man who dares to touch you. If I’m not by your side, I want you to be able to blast him into the next county.”

  “You don’t want me…arrested? You don’t worry that I might be dangerous?”

  He shook his head slowly, smirking. “No, of course not, but I never said you weren’t dangerous.”

  Her anger boiled over, and she shoved at his shoulder. “Damn it, Kit! Do you think this is a game?” He never could keep a straight face and talk about anything of importance, like the things that really mattered—the matters of the heart. “Be serious.” A new tear rolled from her eye.

  She needed him to understand. He was the only one who might. If he didn’t…couldn’t…

  “Hell, Cora. I’m an ass.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. With her ear pressed against his body, she heard the long intake of his breath and felt comforted again. The rage and frustration immediately dissipated as he held her. Then his knuckles brushed her cheek, his touch softer than a whisper. He murmured, “I want you to live your life and not have to worry. I know I can’t rid the world of all the bastards and give you false promises that you’ll always be safe, but I’m damned sure gonna do my best to help you. I can teach you things. Show you how to put a bullet in a target that’ll stop a man. And then…I’m gonna give you a taste of what you’ve been missing.”

  Did he really believe her?

  It was too good to be true. She’d told him everything about Sidlow. He, of all people, knew the feeling of wanting to shoot and actually doing it. Did he think she’d done the right thing by stopping the sheriff’s advances? He still thought she was worth helping?

  He must.

  A jolt of relief rocked her. “Thank you.” Standing on her toes, she kissed his lips. He believed her. He believed, and he hadn’t even flinched when she’d taken the gun from his hand. She kissed both of his cheeks as surprise and delight flashed across his handsome features. “All right. I’ll show you just how awful I am as a marksman.”

  Confidence renewed, she turned, aimed and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, the bullet disappearing somewhere over the empty pasture. “See what I mean?” She tossed a glare at him over her shoulder.

  “Try again,” he murmured, moving up behind her. His hands touched her back, sliding around her shoulders and coming to rest atop hers. “Keep your arms perfectly straight, holding one hand beneath the other like this.” His large hands covered hers, tan, muscular forearms wrapping hers like bars of steel. He leveled the gun with her nose. “Peer straight down the barrel, legs spread wide since the pistol will kick. Brace yourself.” His hips rubbed against hers, and he took a quick breath.

  She smiled, her rising confidence. “I see what you mean. I feel stronger already.”

  “Yes, think of yourself like a rooted tree. Hard and unyielding. One look at you and your opponent will think twice before approaching.” He kissed her earlobe, saying nothing of his present state of arousal though he could have.

  It was only natural, standing so close like they were. But he kept his usual flirty words and actions banked, for once. She recognized he was giving her time—as he’d been doing since he’d learned she’d been victimized. Time to come to him on her own.

  Desire unfurled slowly in her belly, like water lapping the riverbanks at midnight. The man was the balm for whatever seemed to ail her—always able to take the troubles from her mind.

  “Now take a step forward,” he whispered.

  “Why?” She had the target in her sights. Wasn’t she ready to pull the trigger?

  “If the bastard hasn’t already turned and fled after your first shot, you move toward him. It shows you’re not all hat and no cattle.”

  “Got it.” Leaving the comfort of Kit’s embrace, she took three steps closer to the target, still leaving a good distance to shoot.

  “Now, if your aim is true, just squeeze the trigger, darlin’.”

  Power and courage coursed through her. Nobody was going to mess with her ever again.

  Her shot rang out. The wood bounced, splinters flying.

  Lowering the weapon, she spun to face Kit as her heart thrummed. “I did it!”

  He shared her smile. “Yes, you did.”

  “Shall I try another?”

  “You could…or you could save some bullets for another day and maybe take a dip in the creek with me. It’s hot out, and we’re tired, like you said.” He angled his head meaningfully at the shade trees where she made out Ben’s form leaning against the foot of an elm, shifting as if to find a comfortable resting position.

  They’d have the creek and the house to themselves.

  “Why, yes, Sheriff. I think I could use a swim.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Free. Completely, exhilaratingly free. She had no better explanation for the way Kit made her feel. Away from her business, the customers and the burden of being Grace, she had time to enjoy just being alive for a day.

  Smiling, she tugged Kit’s hand, leading him upstairs and into the freshly cleaned bedroom.

  Although she hadn’t experienced the completeness of their union, she sensed the potential for great pleasure with Kit. If he took her again, perhaps she might share the fulfillment. Already she’d found him a better lover than any man before and had actually liked what they’d done in the bathtub before he finished.

  Once inside the room, he kicked the door shut, still grinning and his hair damp from their brief swim, but his expression shifted to one of surprise when he glanced around at what she’d accomplished. “Mercy!”

  She dropped his hand and backed toward the bed. “The walls could use a coat of paint.”

  His gaze swung from his bemused study of the bedroom to her face. “You’ve pulled all this off in a day?” Gratitude shone in his eyes, making every minute of her effort worthwhile.

  She shrugged. “I really liked doing something on my own.” Back at the Willows, she only got to work with the financial ledgers, balancing the expenses, arranging social events on paper for the club’s calendar. The upkeep of the building had always been the responsibility of hired carpenters and the ladies she employed. She hadn’t realized the sense of accomplishment that she’d been missing. “It felt good to work with my hands for a change.”

  At her words, his expression intensified. He compressed his lips as his gaze dropped lower, probably imagining other uses for her hands. Clearly, rest wasn’t in his plans for their time alone.

  Since he liked watching her undress, she unbuttoned her bodice slowly, exposing her skin to him inch by inch while he looked on, leaning against the bedpost in an almost reverent state.

  “Take your hair down too.”

  His gravelly voice tugged at her insides. She removed her hair pins, letting them fall to the f
loor as her hair spilled down over her shoulders.

  “It’s even more lovely than I’d imagined.” His eyes glowed in the soft sunlight seeping through the clean curtains she’d hung.

  Once she’d rid herself of her clothes and gun, she closed the space between them and put her hands on his chest. “Now for your clothes, Sheriff.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her another saucy, lopsided smile, and grabbed his belt buckle.

  “Not so fast, mister.” She dropped her hands to his, stopping him. He’d been in such a hurry when he’d undressed at the creek. Now she wanted to savor him slowly like a lemon cream pie on a lazy summer day. One bite at a time.

  He sighed with appreciation as she undid his top button and kissed the golden triangle of skin she’d exposed. With every button she unfastened, she kissed another section of his taut skin until she had his shirt open. He held her shoulders as she went for his buckle, his flesh hard and straining for release by the time she freed him.

  Kneeling before him, she grasped his buttocks and kissed the steely plane of his stomach.

  “Cora, I swear—” he hissed and clasped her shoulders, gently guiding her to her feet, “—I want this time to be different for you.” His throat worked as he swallowed, visibly restraining himself.

  She blinked. Up until now, everything had seemed so perfect, but his hard expression filled her with a chill of doubt.

  “But I like what I’m doing.” Her cheeks flared with heat.

  He brought a gentle hand to her face. “Oh, sweetheart, it makes me excessively happy you do.” He grinned and kissed her mouth. Holding her cheek in his palm and staring deep into her eyes, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m yours for as long as you want. But right now, I’m determined to hear my name on your sweet lips, and I don’t mean callin’ me in for supper.”

  Her cheeks heated again as he bent down for another kiss, his tongue caressing her bottom lip before sweeping inside to tease hers. When he broke the kiss, her body seemed to float on the lingering sensation. She sighed. “Mmm. That was—”