Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  His look suddenly became wary as he realized Jess must have learned about his vast wealth. Riley had warned him she wouldn't be happy about it. "Your father told you?"

  "Yes, he told me. But I'm sure he didn't know we were harboring a traitor in our house."

  "Harboring a what?"

  "You were on Burke's side all along, weren't you?"

  Devlin's eyes narrowed in a sudden scowl. "What are you talking about? I've never been on Burke's side."

  "Then what were you doing visiting him last night?"

  "Is that what this is all about?"

  "Yes!" The word was high-pitched and ragged, since by now she's worked herself into a frenzy. "Doc Wheeler saw you in Georgetown at Burke's house, so don't deny it!"

  It was a moment before full comprehension of her accu­sation finally sank in for Devlin. He looked at her in total disbelief for a minute, feeling like a knife was sliding into his gut. Could she really trust him so little, after all they'd been through together? Raw pain welled up in him, ac­companied by bitterness at her evident lack of faith. With deceptive casualness, he crossed his arms over his muscu­lar chest. "I won't even try."

  Jess stared at him. She'd expected denials, maybe that Devlin would try to bluff his way out. She'd prayed that he would have a good reason for going to see Burke at his house, though she couldn't begin to imagine what that might be. She hadn't contemplated no explanation at all.

  His voice was cold, deadly, when he finally spoke. "You honestly think I've been betraying you with Burke?"

  "I don't know." Her tone held anguish. "You go behind my back, buying part of our mine from Riley and hiring servants that I don't want and ordering Doc to examine me when I'm fine—I don't know what to think anymore."

  "You might," Devlin said carefully, not trusting himself to relax his rigid control, "try giving me the benefit of the doubt."

  She didn't look as if she were willing to give him any­thing. Devlin found himself clenching his teeth. Sonovabitcb—she ought to be grateful for his intervention. He was saving her precious mine, for Christ's sake. In­stead she was actually standing there accusing him of treachery! The idea that she could believe such a thing of him filled him with a stabbing rage, and a pain so deep he didn't even want to acknowledge it.

  In an abruptly vicious gesture, he jerked his hat off his head and threw it on the bed. She'd been spoiling for a fight ever since she'd shown up here, and he would give it to her.

  "I had the impression," he said tightly, his hands going to his hips, "that you wanted to stop Burke from taking over your mine. Was I wrong?"

  "No."

  "Well, I did pay Burke a visit last night. First I threat­ened him with a half-million dollar lawsuit if he didn't give up his ambition to own the Wildstar. Then I told him I'd kill him if he or any of his men dared hurt you or your father again."

  Her eyes searched Devlin's face. "Why should I believe you? How do I know you weren't working for Burke all along? How do I know he didn't bribe you like he has most everyone else in this town?"

  Devlin felt his hands curl into fists as he fought the urge to wring Jess's pretty neck. After all the risks he'd taken for her, the long tedious solitary hours spent up at that god­damned mine, the countless times he'd sacrificed his own pleasure on her behalf, she was actually calling him dishon­est to his face. Some men would kill over such an insult.

  Devlin's usual seductive charm deserted him totally. "I never set eyes on Burke until two weeks ago," he said with tight-lipped anger. "And even if I were the kind of man to accept bribes, why would I need his money? I have plenty of my own. I'll never miss the fifty thousand I gave your father. I spend more each year on my horses."

  Her gasp was audible in the small room, though she comprehended only part of what Devlin had said. "You gave Riley fifty thousand dollars!"

  "That's the usual currency exchange in America," Dev­lin snapped, his tone holding a slicing edge of mocker)'.

  She was silent for a long time. "You're rich!" she fi­nally said in a hoarse voice.

  "That's the term for millionaires, yes." The hard light in his gray eyes pierced her. "You said Riley told you."

  "He . . . never . . . told me that." She sounded breath­less, as if she'd been running too long too fast. "You never told me. . . . You said you were a gambler."

  "I said I was a gambler among other things."

  "You lied to me. . . . You lied."

  Devlin drew in a deep breath, struggling violently for patience. "I didn't lie to you, Jess. There was a time when I earned my living gambling—I still do to some extent. Only now I gamble on stocks instead of games of chance."

  "How could you?" she whispered, her gaze agonized.

  "How could I be wealthy?" His lips twisted in a cold smile. "Actually it took a lot of hard work. I made my money honestly, if that's what worries you. Mostly in min­ing stocks. Gold at first, until I diversified. I found I have a talent for playing the market. I can't give you a precise accounting, but I imagine I could buy Burke twice over."

  "You're richer than Burke?"

  The stricken look on her face gave him no satisfaction. She stood there staring at him in shock, her face drained of color.

  "Look, what the hell difference does it make what size my bank account is?"

  What difference did it make? Everything. If she had known how rich he was, she never would have hired him to help guard the mine, never would have trusted him or come to depend on him. She never would have given herself to him that terrible night in the Wildstar. Dear God, she had made love to a man who was just like Burke, maybe worse. At least she knew better than to trust Burke. Devlin had fooled her entirely. He had lied to her from the very first moment she'd set eyes on him. He had bought her father, and he had lied. . . .

  The room started to spin; Devlin's face started to blur.

  He was watching her intently, his expression skeptical. "You told me you didn't care about money. Are you say­ing now you didn't mean it?"

  She took a deep, steadying breath, surprised to realize she was shaking. "No . . . I don't care about money. What I care about is honesty. I trusted you . . . but you've been lying to me the whole time. And now I find you sneaking behind my back, using your filthy money to take over our mine—"

  "Sweet heaven, Jess, stop it! You're being ridiculous."

  Her eyes burning with tears she wouldn't shed in front of him, Jess shook her head. She'd been more than ridic­ulous. She'd been a total fool, thinking she could love him. He was a wealthy mining baron, the kind of man she had always despised. He'd given her father more money than Riley could repay in a lifetime. He owned Riley. Just like Burke owned much of this town.

  Struggling desperately for control, Jessica lifted a trem­bling hand and pointed at the door, her wild-eyed gaze fixed on Devlin. "Get out. Get out of here. I don't ever want to lay eyes on you again as long as I live!"

  Chapter 13

  Devlin stood staring at Jessica for a full thirty sec­onds, unable to fathom what had her so upset. He was the one whose honor had been impugned. He was the one who'd been accused of treachery and betrayal—when his only crime had been withholding the truth about his prosperity. He'd originally had good reasons for that, though. Reasons she knew nothing about. Now he would have to tell her what had brought him to Silver Plume and why he'd come in the guise of a gambler, instead of flash­ing his wealth and riding into town on his own private railroad car—

  "I mean it!" Jess cried before he could decide where to begin. "I want you out of my house!"

  Devlin strode angrily past her, but instead of obeying, he slammed the door shut and turned to face her, his ex­pression tight. "I'm not leaving until we get this straight­ened out."

  "There's nothing to straighten out!"

  "Yes, there is! I owe you an explanation, and you're going to listen." He didn't give her a chance to argue, but launched in. "I didn't mean to lie to you, Jess. It was im­portant that I retain some kind of anonymity if I ho
ped to find the outlaws who robbed my father's train."

  At least that got her attention. "Your . . . father's train?"

  "The Colorado Central. It was held up three times since the spring—the last one a month ago. The gang stole a sil­ver bullion shipment and killed two people."

  "Your father owns the Colorado Central Railroad?" she asked weakly.

  "Not entirely. He's a major shareholder, though, and a member of the board of directors. He asked me to put a stop to the robberies if I could. I came here following a ru­mor. A man with a scar over his eye, riding a roan, was identified as one of the outlaws."

  He let that sink in a minute. She watched him mutely, her breasts swiftly rising and falling with her ragged breaths.

  "I was hunting down the rumor when I overheard you tell the sheriff about a man with a scar being seen up at the mine the day your father was shot. So I let you hire me as a guard. It seemed a good bargain at the time. You needed help, and I stood a lot better chance of finding the gang if I had a good reason for asking questions, if every move I made wasn't suspect. The man turned out to be Zeke McRoy, but my only lead dried up when I killed him. That's why I was so angry that night."

  Jess heard his explanation, but only one crucial detail mattered. Devlin had used her to find McRoy. He had used her. It was almost worse than betrayal would have been. Not only was he filthy rich, not only had he lied to her from the beginning, but the only reason he had helped her was because he'd needed her for his own purposes.

  "Get out," she said hoarsely. "Get out of here."

  Devlin's temper started to soar again. "In the name of thunder—haven't you heard a word I've said?"

  "Yes, I heard! Now, get out of my house! Get out of my life! You don't need to use me anymore. You got what you came for."

  "I didn't get what I came for. I was too busy playing nursemaid to you and your goddamned mine."

  "Don't cuss in my house, darnit!"

  He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Right. Saint Jessica's rules for boarders." His mouth curled as he eyed her dis­dainfully. "I'm not leaving until I'm good and ready. I still have unfinished business with your father. And technically I still work for you."

  "No, you don't! You're fired!" Abruptly Jess recalled the salary she owned Devlin for guarding the mine. "I said I'd pay you two hundred and fifty dollars a month, but I'll give you every cent of that, even though the month is only half up. I'll send the money to your hotel."

  He stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I don't want the damned money! You could give me a thousand times that sum and I'd never notice it. What I want is an apology."

  "You want an apology!"

  "Yes, for putting me in the same category as that bas­tard Burke."

  "You are in the same category! You're no better than he is! In fact, you're worse, confound you! You're manipula­tive and heartless, just like he is!" Furious, hurting like she'd never hurt before, Jess stood there glaring at Devlin and unconsciously dashing tears from her eyes. "You used me, damn you!" ,

  "Yes, I used you! Which is exactly what you did with me—used me to save your mine."

  "No, it wasn't the same! I was honest with you from the start, but you . . . You're lower than a rattlesnake. At least a rattler gives a warning before it strikes."

  Devlin clenched his fists to keep from hitting some­thing. He couldn't ever remember being so livid. "So help me God, if you weren't a woman . . ." he said through his teeth.

  Jess regarded him with loathing, her own fists balled in determination. "If you won't leave on your own, I'll get a gun and make you!"

  She started to march past him, but his arm shot out and stopped her, lightning quick and hard. His eyes were like flint as his fingers dug into the soft flesh above her elbow.

  "Let go of me!" she exclaimed, trying to break free of his grip.

  The hot rise of desire within Devlin was swift and sud­den. I shouldn't have touched her, was his abrupt thought. Touching her only made him recall too vividly what he should never have known about Jess, only brought to mind forbidden memories of taut silky breasts . . . velvet warm skin . . . a lush, supple body. . . .

  Devlin swore viciously under his breath. He'd promised himself he would keep away from her, that he wouldn't give in to his need to have her, to hold her. He'd been eaten up with guilt for two days, ever since the dark night when she'd exchanged her innocence for the simple hu­man comfort the act of mating could bring her. But now . . . anger and arousal made his blood surge hot, his body harden.

  When Jess started to struggle, he gripped both her arms, wanting to shake some sense into her, wanting to make love to her again. Dammit, but this stubborn, beautiful hellcat aroused so many emotions in him—he'd never felt so many conflicting desires for a woman. He wanted to protect as well as to take. He felt the urge to throttle her at the same time he ached to bury himself so deeply inside her that he wouldn't know where either of them began or ended.

  "Let—me—go!" Jess was half shouting, half sputtering, her golden eyes blazing with fire. "I don't want anything to do with you, you bastard! You lied to me and used me! You made love to me under false pretenses! I would never have let you touch me if I'd known what kind of man you are. You're the one who owes me the apology!"

  That last charge cut more deeply than even her accusa­tions of lying and betrayal. "The hell I do!" Devlin shot back, his voice icy with fury. "I won't apologize for being rich. I've worked hard for everything I own. I won't apol­ogize for using you to find a gang of vicious killers! You were my best lead—and you got more than your money's worth in return for my services. Guarding your mine nearly got me killed. And I damn sure won't apologize for making love to you! You wanted it as much as I did. In fact, I recollect you begging me to take you."

  "I did not!" Jess said fiercely, totally shamed by the truth.

  "You did! You begged me to teach you about passion— and you're lying to yourself if you remember otherwise."

  "No . . ."

  All the while he'd been impelling her slowly backward across the small room. He stopped when he could go no farther, when they reached the pine bureau. Jess found her back pressed painfully against the upper edge of the chest, with Devlin crowding her in front, his hard thighs brush­ing up against her skirts. She winced and tried to shrink away. She didn't want him touching her. She'd been be­trayed by him, even if it wasn't the kind of betrayal she had first thought.

  But he wouldn't release her. He wouldn't even let her avoid his gaze. He was towering over her, his sculpted face hard with fury. She saw the fierce light moving in his eyes, in the storm-gray irises, and for the first time since meeting him, she felt a twinge of real fear. She didn't know this ruthless stranger, this dangerous man. But then she never had. The tender, caring lover she remembered from the mine had been nothing more than a figment of her distraught imagination.

  Certainly there was no tenderness in him as his rough mouth crashed down on hers. The room reeled; the sudden dark seizure of his kiss made Jess's head spin. She tried to cry out. but Devlin lifted her hard into his kiss, smothering her angry protests.

  Her fists doubled against his chest, trying to push him away, but his fingers clamped onto her chin and held it so he could enter her mouth with his tongue. He was pun­ishing her, satisfying his anger, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth to overwhelm any resistance. The hard sen­sual caress was detached, brutally lustful, the savage pres­sure subduing her, making her open wide for him.

  She struggled, twisting and heaving, but he used his body to crush her up against the bureau. She couldn't move. Her mouth was filled with the hot searching stab of his tongue, her nostrils filled with his heat, his scent. She couldn't breathe. He assaulted her senses, pinning her with the length of his masculine frame, cradling her pelvis against the hard ridge of his manhood. All the feminine parts of her body so recently sensitized to his touch sud­denly awakened to throbbing, pulsing life.

  His mouth was still eating hers feverishly
when she felt his rough hands in her hair, searching, pulling the pins out, tossing each one aside, finally loosening the tawny mass. Catching a silken skein, he tangled his fingers in it and held her still. When he lifted his head, his gray eyes were fierce.

  Jess dragged a ragged breath of air into her lungs.

  Then his free hand reached for the top button of her bodice and her eyes widened in shocked comprehension.

  "No . . ." she repeated in a shaking voice.

  "Yes, angel." The button tore free and clattered to the floor, making her gasp.

  "What are you doing!" Jess squirmed, but the vise of his hand held her head still, his muscular thighs pressing hard against hers, while his fingers continued their pur­poseful work.

  "What does it look like I'm doing?" he retorted, his voice going even lower and rougher. "I'm taking off your clothes." He finished with the fastenings on her basque bodice, and with uncompromising expertise, started on the small buttons of her camisole. "You wanted to know what you've been missing. I'm going to show you right now. That first time, I was gentle. Now I'm going to take you hard and fast, then real, real slow."

  His gravelly voice held none of the teasing seduction he used with other women, none of the smooth sophistication or devastating charm Jess had come to know. "I'm going to make you feel so much you won't know your fingers from your toes. I'm going to make love to you, sweet­heart."

  "No, don't!" she protested, her heart starting to pound at his threat. "I don't want anything to do with you!"

  "You do so, Jess. You want me."

  "I do not. . . . I despise you!"

  "You didn't despise me two nights ago. You enjoyed ev­erything I did to you."

  "Two nights ago I didn't know what a cad you are—"

  Her retort ended in a sharp inhalation as he ripped the fi­nal buttons of her camisole, baring her corset and the che­mise beneath.