Secrets In The Shadows

by Sheridon Smythe

  Adam stood up and jumped from the wagon bed, buckling his gun belt around his waist. And this time, Lacy could see his expression. It was one of cynical amusement. “I believe that was my line, Lacy."

  Standing, Lacy slipped into her dress and swiftly buttoned the front. When that was finished, she began picking hay out of her hair, her movements jerky, angry. How could he be so flippant? How could she have been so thoughtless? And how could he tarnish what they'd shared together by making jokes? Somehow, things had gotten turned around. If she didn't know better, she'd think Adam was hurt because she wasn't begging him to marry her.

  Humph! He was right—she wasn't like ‘other women'. She didn't feel this all consuming desire to shackle herself to another nightmare. Surely he understood? Surely he didn't really want to marry her? He'd said he was leaving soon, and he should know that she had no intentions of leaving Shadow City. She had Ben and Takola to think of. And Grandpa....

  Thunder. Why did he have to go and spoil a perfect evening?

  By the time Lacy finished dressing and climbed onto the wagon bench without Adam's help, she was furious.

  Male pride, she decided. Stubborn male pride. If she had hinted he should marry her, he'd be running in the opposite direction!

  Maybe he sensed she wasn't being entirely truthful. Maybe he knew that deep down she wished he would insist she marry him—take the choice from her because she was a coward. Lacy tossed her head and arranged her skirts, finding a stray piece of hay in the folds. She picked it off and flung it from her as Adam set the wagon in motion.

  Never again would she be able to look at this wagon without thinking of Adam and the wonderful, dream-like time they had shared. Her future yawned before her, a big empty hole she knew she would never be able to fill completely. For that, it would take Adam. Before, she had only sensed she was missing something from her life, and until Adam came along, she always managed to bury the infrequent twinges.

  Now she would know without a doubt what she was missing.

  Lacy sighed, wishing she could feel regret for losing her head. But she didn't. Couldn't. Even now, the thought of Adam's lovemaking made her skin flush hot and her bones turn to mush. She suspected it would be a long, long while before he wasn't in her thoughts and dreams.

  Loving Adam Logan would take a lifetime to get over.

  The shot came out of the blue, ricocheting off the short space of wagon bench between them. Splinters flew and Lacy cried out, grabbing her arm as a long shaft of wood buried into the skin above her elbow. The mare reared and the trailing stallion danced sideways as far as the lead rein would go. Adam fought for control of the frightened horse with one hand and drew his gun with the other, his eyes searching the dark road ahead.

  "Are you hit?” he demanded in a low, tense voice. He urged the skittish mare to the side of the road before setting the brake, his movements swift and silent.

  "No—I've got a splinter in my arm,” Lacy whispered, trying to see where the shot had come from. Who could it be? And why would they be shooting at them?

  "Get down,” Adam ordered softly, pushing her down on the bench even as he spoke. “And don't get up until I tell you to.” When he was satisfied she was out of danger, he eased down from the wagon and crouched along the side. The moonlight didn't penetrate the dark shadows beneath the trees, but Adam listened and watched, waiting for a sound—any sound—that would give him an idea of where the assailant might be hiding.

  Lacy wasn't sure how long she remained hunkered down on the bench, but it felt like hours. The night seemed unnaturally still, as if the creatures of the forest surrounding them were listening, too. She could hear Adam's faint breathing and the uneven sound of her own.

  Finally, a horse broke loose from the trees opposite them, crashing onto the road. Firing wildly into the air, the rider kicked his horse into a frantic gallop and pounded down the road, disappearing around a bend. The echoing gunshots died slowly, as did the furious pounding of the horse's hooves.

  Within minutes, the forest was once again silent. Lacy shook her head, wondering if she had dreamed the apparition. It had all happened so fast!

  Adam straightened and cursed in a low, vicious voice. He climbed onto the bench and helped Lacy to her feet. Lacy held still as he probed her arm, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out as he removed the splinter. “You'll need to disinfect that as soon as you get home,” he told her.

  Lacy couldn't stop herself from shaking. “You mean, if we make it home. Who do you think it was, Adam? Why would they be shooting at us?"

  "I think they were shooting at me.” He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the wound. “Hold this against it, okay?"

  "But ... why?” she persisted, automatically following his instructions. Her arm hurt, but she was far too distracted to care. “Why would anyone want to kill you?"

  Adam took up the reins, his voice grim. “I can think of a few reasons why someone might want me to disappear."

  Lacy drew in a long, trembling breath. “You're talking about the mayor, aren't you? You think maybe he—".

  "I think that's a good possibility."

  "But, he'd know that you would know—"

  "He wasn't counting on me being alive to tell it. I underestimated him, it seems. Rusty tried to warn me."

  Lacy digested this in silence, her mind boggled by what had nearly happened. Yet, she wasn't convinced the assailant hadn't been aiming at her. After all, the shot had landed closer to her than to Adam. She voiced her suspicions, trying to sound brave and failing miserably. “They could have been shooting at me, Adam."

  "I don't think so.” He sounded very sure. “Whoever it was, and whatever reason they had for shooting, they missed. When I get through with the mayor, he'll wish he'd never seen my face."

  The underlying steel in his quietly spoken promise made Lacy shiver. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had caressed her so tenderly less than half an hour ago. As if he sensed her unease, he pulled her to him and kept his arm around her as they traveled the last few miles into town.

  Adam remained alert, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. He didn't think the assailant would return, but if he did, Adam wanted to be ready.

  His mouth tightened when he thought about how close his enemy had came to shooting Lacy. Raw fear curled in his belly as he imagined her lying in a pool of blood, the victim of a bullet meant for him. With a muttered oath, he shook the terrifying image from his mind and concentrated on calming the mare, who remained skittish. And Lacy, whom he suspected was more shaken from the accident than she'd like him to believe. He could feel her trembling against him periodically.

  The mayor would pay for this, he vowed silently.

  * * * *

  Once safely home, Adam insisted on examining the small puncture himself, ignoring Lacy's vigorous protests. Rusty, Ben, and Takola gathered around the table, demanding to know what had happened. Adam explained it all to them while he washed Lacy's wound and dabbed it with alcohol. When Lacy winced at the sting, he bent close and blew gently on her arm.

  Lacy held her breath, her pain forgotten as she met his tender gaze. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Adam stared at her a moment longer, looking worried. Then, he smiled. “You're welcome. It's the least I can do, since I got you into this mess."

  "You don't know that for sure,” she countered softly.

  Adam's smile faded and a hard light appeared in his eyes. Lacy was glad it wasn't for her. “You have any other suggestions?” When Lacy shook her head, he said, “Come on, I'll walk you to your room. You need to rest."

  "Oh—you don't have to—"

  "Nevertheless, I will,” Adam said, his tone matching the hard light in his eyes. He glanced at Rusty, who stood by her chair, his aged face creased with worry. “Don't worry, Rusty. I'm going to make sure this doesn't happen again."

  Ben, who had remained unusually quiet through the wh
ole explanation, nudged Adam aside as Lacy came to her feet. He fell upon her and buried his face in the folds of her dress. His words were nearly incoherent. “Don't know what I'd do if somethin’ happened to you, Lacy."

  Touched, Lacy smoothed his unruly hair. “Nothing's going to happen to me, Ben. Now, you go on up to bed, okay? I'm all right."

  Ben lifted his face to look at her, his eyes round with fear. “You promise?"

  "I promise.” Lacy forced herself to smile at him. “Now go.” She watched Ben walk from the room. For the first time, he was walking, not running.

  "We were right worried about you when it got dark and you hadn't made it home,” Rusty said in a scolding tone. “If I hadn't known Adam was with you, I'd have come lookin’ for ya. Guess I should have anyway. Might have run into that varmint myself."

  Lacy was appalled at the image his words brought to her mind. “No, Grandpa! You could have been shot.” And he might have stumbled upon them in the wagon.... Hot color rose to her face and she prayed he would put it down to excitement. “I'm glad you didn't. As you said, Adam was with me."

  Her grandfather stroked his whiskered chin, looking to Adam. “I'm goin’ with you when you go talk to the mayor. This has gone too far already."

  Adam shook his head. “No. Somebody needs to ride out and warn Lester there might be trouble. I know he's got men watching the lumber mill, but after tonight, I think he needs to stay on his toes at his place, too. I'm not going to talk to the mayor until mornin’ anyway."

  "You don't need to go alone—” her grandfather began to argue, only to be cut off.

  "He's not stupid, Rusty. He wouldn't try to kill me in his own house. Besides, he won't get the chance."

  "Don't be a hero, Adam,” Lacy interrupted, her eyes pleading with him.

  Adam looked as if he had a ready reply to that one, but changed his mind. Instead, he gently gripped her uninjured arm and led her to the door. “Come on. I want to make certain you go straight to bed and rest. Good night, Rusty. I can count on you to ride out and warn Salvage in the morning?"

  "First thing,” her grandfather agreed.

  Lacy murmured goodnight to her grandpa and the silent Takola and allowed Adam to lead her up the stairs.

  Once they reached the door to her room, Lacy turned to Adam, suddenly nervous. “Well, goodnight.” It was difficult to look at him and not immediately remember the way he'd looked, all naked and beautiful in the moonlight. A shudder rippled gently through her.

  Adam smiled and tilted her head, kissing her with a possessive thoroughness that left Lacy breathless. Leaning against the door jamb, he studied her face as if memorizing it. “Goodnight, Lacy. I have to say, there's never a dull moment when you're around."

  Lacy grinned despite her jittery nerves. “And I dare say you could do without that kind of excitement."

  In a low, suggestive voice, Adam asked, “And which excitement are you referring to?"

  Lacy swallowed. “Well, I was referring to the shooting, of course."

  "Of course,” he mocked. Reaching out, he hooked her waist and jerked her against him, all pretense gone. “It's not over, Lacy."

  "What ... what are you referring to?” She forced herself to meet his bold gaze, jolted by the sudden seriousness in his expression. That infernal weakness hit her knees and she buckled. Adam kept her from falling.

  "You know what I'm talking about. You. Me. Us. We've got some talkin’ to do."

  "There's no need—"

  "Yes, there is. You think we can just pretend this never happened?” he demanded. To emphasize his point, he cupped her bottom and drove her tight against him. “I won't let you forget.” With one last, possessive kiss, he released her and left.

  Lacy held onto the door jam for dear life, breathing unsteadily. She felt weak from head to toe and feared it had nothing to do with the incident with the assailant. No, Adam made her feel this way.

  Adam.

  Heavens, how she loved him. And he was right, she could never pretend it hadn't happened, didn't want to pretend it had never happened. She would cherish each and every memory, but she must not repeat it.

  Her heart wasn't strong enough.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The mayor's house was impressive—an old restored plantation house set on a hill just outside of town. Stately pine trees surrounded the property in a curious, symmetrical design which reminded Adam of sentries standing guard.

  He probably likened himself to a king overlooking his kingdom, Adam thought derisively as he studied the rich landscaping and the bleached white columns of the porch.

  Sandy snorted and fought for his head, but Adam held him to a brisk walk as they climbed the winding, steep road leading to the house. It was barely seven o'clock and having slept little himself, he didn't care if the mayor was still abed or not. It would give him great pleasure to yank him out of it.

  Dismounting, Adam tethered Sandy to the porch rail and trotted up the steps to knock on the door. A middle-aged woman answered almost immediately, as if she had been watching his approach. Adam stared at her suspiciously. She returned his look without blinking an eyelash, her apron as blindingly white as the massive columns. Finally, he drawled, “I'm here to see the mayor."

  "Is he expecting you?” she inquired courteously, her eyes darting to the star on his shirt. They widened respectfully, but she didn't budge.

  Adam laughed. “I doubt it. In fact, I'd say he'll be real surprised to see me.” He pushed past her and strode through the polished hall as if he knew exactly where he was going.

  He didn't, but that didn't stop him. To the left he spotted a dining room, but after a quick inspection, he saw it was empty so he continued on. The harsh clicking of his boots drowned out the housekeeper's softer steps, but Adam sensed her behind him.

  He ignored her.

  So the mayor still slept, he deduced, when he found the other downstairs rooms empty. He took the stairs two at a time and traversed down the opulent hall, opening doors left and right until he came upon the last door at the far end.

  This had to be it, he thought. He reached for the knob just as the out-of-breath housekeeper topped the landing and caught sight of him. Her shrill voice screeched down the hall. “You can't go in there! Hey!” She stretched an arm in his direction as if she could span the distance and stop him.

  Adam nodded in satisfaction. He'd found the mayor's room.

  Jamis Goodrich came awake as his bedroom door crashed open. Adam smiled at his bleary-eyed expression and stalked into the room, kicking the door shut. The mayor's eyes grew wider and wider until he resembled a bewildered owl. His nightcap hung askew, with tufts of gray hair poking out from beneath, adding to the ridiculous picture he presented. The rich purple night shirt he wore did not surprise Adam in the least.

  Finally, the mayor found his voice. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” he thundered, but there was an underlying thread of fear in his voice. “Who let you in?"

  In contrast, Adam's voice was soft and pleasant. “Why, Mayor Goodrich. You look as if you've seen a ghost.” Adam's smile was wicked, but deadly. “Don't tell me—you're surprised to see me?” He tisk-tisked. “Whoever you hired wasn't a very good shot.” Moving closer to the bed, Adam continued, his tone growing more menacing by the second. “I never took you for a stupid man, Goodrich—until now."

  "What ... what do you mean?” the mayor asked in a strangled whisper. He scrambled upright, scooting his fat bulk against the velvet-lined headboard as far as he could go.

  Adam reached the bed and leaned over, grabbing the mayor by the front of his garish silk nightshirt. He brought the man's face within inches of his own so there would be no mistake about how furious he was. “I mean, Mr. Mayor, that you failed to kill me, and in the process nearly killed an innocent woman."

  The mayor's eyes bulged in what appeared to be genuine bewilderment. Adam wasn't ready to believe it.

  "Kill you? I didn't try to kill you. I don't have any idea what yo
u're talking about, you idiot! What woman?"

  Adam growled a curse of disbelief. The mayor's face drained of color. “I'd watch my mouth, if I were you. And don't think I'm swallowing your innocent act. You're the only one in this town who would like to see me dead."

  The mayor struggled to free himself from Adam's death grip, but Adam wasn't finished. Not quite. “When I get through with you, you'll wish you'd hired a better shot."

  "You're crazy!"

  Adam drew back his fist and prepared to slam it into the mayor's lying face.

  The mayor uttered a high-pitched screech, then began to babble, “No—wait! I didn't do anything, I swear! You must be wrong—you must have enemies you don't know about because I swear I didn't have anything to do with it!"

  "Hell,” Adam said, just before he broke the mayor's nose. Blood spurted and Adam released his grip on the mayor and stepped calmly out of the way. He'd just put on a clean shirt. “I should kill you—before you get the opportunity to kill me. But hear this—you'd better make certain they don't miss next time, if you're stupid enough to try it again.” He flexed his fingers, watching without a hint of remorse as the mayor tried to stem the flow of blood with the bed sheet. “And leave Salvage alone. If you don't, I'll throw your powdered ass in jail—along with all of your henchmen."

  Adam was halfway down the hall before the mayor found the courage to shout after him, “I'll get you for this, Logan! I'll get you!"

  The pain-filled nasal sound made Adam smile with grim satisfaction.

  * * * *

  "So you don't think it was him,” Rusty said, handing Adam another log. They were in Rusty's backyard, away from listening ears. A rooster crowed, and almost immediately, the loud clucking of dozens of hens celebrated the laying of an egg. This event occurred every half hour or so throughout the day.

  Adam wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm before taking the log. He balanced it on the chopping block, drew back the ax, and split the log with a resounding thud. With barely a pause, he divided the log four ways, then promptly took another from Rusty's outstretched hand, grateful Rusty hadn't protested when he had offered to take over the chore. The physical labor gave him an outlet for his anger and Rusty a much needed break.