by Nadia Aidan
Cherie’s smile grew wider at the look of trepidation on Shane’s face. A spitfire indeed. The look in his eyes told her he must have crossed words with Montgomery and ended up on the wrong side of that argument.
Montgomery was undoubtedly quite a handful. Before she’d met Wayne Kincaid, who had been the sheriff of Redemption at the time, she’d been the sole owner and madam of the town’s only brothel, Every Desire. She’d had to be tough as nails running a business like that. But marrying a good man softened even the toughest of girls.
A year ago, Montgomery had turned over Every Desire to Cherie—so it was hers now. But she was gonna have a helluva time running it behind jail bars.
“When’s Kincaid going to be here?”
He glanced at the well worn grandfather clock in the corner.
“Any minute now, but don’t count on him getting you out of here. As soon as the authorities back in San Antonio get my wire, they will be here to collect you.”
A few years ago, the thought of standing trial and going to prison would have left her frozen with fear, but not anymore. What was the point in running? The life she had now was no better than the life she would have in jail. After all, the one thing she wanted, the one thing she craved more than anything else in the world, had eluded her. There was nothing for her back in San Antonio, but there was certainly nothing left for her in Redemption. She would certainly miss Montgomery, her godsons and even Wayne, she thought begrudgingly. She hadn’t particularly cared for him at first. After all, he’d come and taken her best friend from her, but he was starting to grow on her.
She turned and took a seat on the bed in the cell and leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes shut.
“So what happened to you, Shane, after I left town? You marry a nice girl, have a couple of babies?” she asked, deciding to make small talk. He was a big time U.S. Marshal now—obviously life had been good to him.
He snorted. “I went to prison for two years for helping you escape.”
Her lids flew open, and she stared at him, the resentment in his eyes making her heart clench.
“And no, there were no nice girls for me.” He chuckled bitterly. “After you, I didn’t exactly believe in nice girls, and marrying any woman held little appeal. I definitely didn’t want to have children with one.” He furled his lips into a hard sneer, and it twisted his handsome features into such an ugly mask she almost didn’t recognise him.
“There was one thing that came out of that night that I thank you for though.”
She frowned. She didn’t think anything good had come out of that night. That wasn’t true. There was one thing, but she knew he wouldn’t think so.
“What’s that?”
“You taught me how to fuck. I certainly put what I learned from you to very good use.”
She scowled. “I’m sure you left a trail of broken hearts,” she said tightly.
“Which is something you know all about, right, Cherie?”
She turned away because she couldn’t stand to look at him any longer, knowing the role she’d played in turning a kind, innocent boy, into the cruel, bitter man before her.
“Revenge—that’s what this is all about. You showing up here after all these years is all about revenge, isn’t it?”
“That’s the only thing this is about. I sat in prison waiting for this moment, dreaming of the day I would finally drag you back to prison and force you to serve out your sentence. That thought sustained me. Even after I was exonerated and set free, I still remained determined to find you—”
“To make me pay, to make me suffer.” She dipped her head to stare at her feet. “Trust me, Shane, I suffered,” she said softly.
“But not enough.”
Her head snapped up, and her gaze clashed with his. There was no sympathy there, not an ounce of compassion in his icy blue eyes. He had no idea how much she’d suffered, how much she’d lost. Deep down, she’d known this day would come. How could she not? She carried around his memory every day, even when she wished she could have forgotten.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, quietly, knowing she owed him far more than a feeble apology.
“It’s too little, Cherie, and definitely too late.”
The door to the Marshal’s Office swung open, and to Cherie’s relief, it brought an end to the tense conversation that had opened up wounds she’d thought healed long ago.
Wayne “Ravenclaw” Kincaid barrelled inside, his burly, muscular frame blocking out the sun, his sheet of raven hair trailing after him. His Stetson was tipped low over his brows, shielding his eyes, but Shane knew the moment his gaze landed on Cherie.
“Cherie?” His attention snapped to Shane. “What’s she doing locked up?”
Shane liked Kincaid. As far as bosses went, Shane couldn’t have asked for a better one. The older Marshal was tough, but fair, his sense of justice, much like that of Shane’s. But he knew when it came to Cherie, Kincaid was partial. After all, she was his wife’s friend.
“She broke the law, so I put her in jail.”
Kincaid’s brows lifted. “Cherie?”
She shrugged. “I think you should let him tell you.”
Kincaid sighed. “Shane. Can I have a word with you outside?”
Shane followed him out back, closing the door to the federal jail behind them.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Kincaid asked as soon as Shane turned to face him.
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Eight years ago, Cherie robbed a bank. She was supposed to stand trial, but she escaped before she could. I was on duty when she decided to take flight, so I was thrown into prison under suspicion for helping her—but then you know all about that part.”
“I didn’t know Cherie was the girl you went to prison for.” Kincaid’s eyes narrowed, his jade green gaze boring into Shane. “So you wanna tell me what this is really about?”
“I just told you—”
“You just told me the facts. Now, I want the truth.”
“The facts are the truth. I spent two years in prison because of her. I came here to drag her back to San Antonio where she will stand before a judge, be sentenced then go and serve her time as she shoulda done eight years ago.”
Kincaid studied him closely—too closely in Shane’s opinion. “Is that why you took this position? Because you heard she was out here?”
“Partly. I’d heard many times before that Cherie was somewhere, only to get there and find out she hadn’t been there in years. It was luck that this rumour happened to be true.”
“Luck. Hardly. You been chasing her for six years. Eventually, you had to find her.” Kincaid scowled then. “But you know I can’t let you send her back.”
Shane stilled. “What do you mean, you can’t let me send her back? We are U.S. Marshals. She broke the law. Our job is to arrest people who break the law. Cherie is no different just because she’s your friend—”
Kincaid’s face hardened. “That’s where you’re wrong. Cherie is different. She’s like a sister to Montgomery. Do you know how I would suffer if I let you turn Cherie over to federal custody?”
Shane could only imagine. Kincaid was a strong man, who probably could take whatever his wife dished out, but Montgomery was not to be messed with. And for just a moment, he swore Kincaid actually quivered in his boots.
“So what are you suggesting? That I just let her go?”
“It’s been eight years—”
“And I would have still tracked her down had it been fifty.”
Kincaid’s eyes glinted hard as stone, and Shane swore the man was probing deep into his soul with his sharp eyes.
“When I asked you to tell me the truth, that’s exactly what I wanted—”
“And I told you the truth,” Shane snapped.
“Hmph.” Kincaid dragged his hand down his face, and Shane watched and waited, growing uneasy as silence stretched between them. “You know before I came to Redemption there was a woman in my past too,” Kinc
aid said finally. “I almost met a hang man’s noose because of her. But you know what?”
Shane didn’t say a word, mostly because he was certain his boss wasn’t expecting an answer.
“As soon as I was exonerated and set free, I left town, happy to be alive. I didn’t look back; I didn’t seek that woman out. Naturally, I was upset with her, but I didn’t hold a grudge against her. I simply walked away. And I was able to do that because I didn’t harbour feelings for her. She didn’t hurt me at some deeper level where I couldn’t forgive.”
Shane snorted. “If you think I have feelings for Cherie, then you’re wrong. She’s nothing but a thief and a whore, and I’m only doing my job.”
Kincaid regarded Shane in silence, his voice low when he finally spoke. “A man doesn’t chase a woman across three states, and for six years, if he doesn’t have feelings for her. “
A mixture of anger and denial flooded him. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Cherie, he was simply doing his duty. “I’m not letting her go.”
“You don’t have to let her go, but you can’t send her back.”
Shane opened his mouth to protest—of course, he had to send her back—but he never got a word out.
“She’s a madam, Shane. She can give you any woman you want, for as long as you want her. She can give you money, she even owns some land. Cherie has many resources at her disposal so I suggest you bargain with her and broker some type of arrangement that will appease you.”
His eyes rounded. “You want me to let her go in exchange for one of her whores?”
“That was just one suggestion. I don’t really care what you come up with. Hell, you can fuck her for every day you spent in prison. I really don’t give a damn. But I can promise you, if you try to take Cherie back to a federal prison, you’ll never even make it out of town. My wife would personally shoot you herself.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “No one is gonna stop me, not even Montgome—”
Whatever words that were on the tip of Shane’s tongue died right there when Kincaid balled his fist into Shane’s plaid shirt, the material bunching tight around his neck.
“Maybe, Montgomery wouldn’t be able to stop you alone, but just so we are clear, no one would make it out of town alive if they so much as thought about laying a wrong finger on my wife.”
Kincaid held Shane’s gaze, until the younger man nodded, a silent acknowledgement that Shane fully understood Kincaid’s threat.
Shane gasped for air when Kincaid released him, his hand gently massaging his neck. “This is blackmail, you know,” he stuttered, still struggling to drag in a full breath of air.
Kincaid nodded, his lips twisting into a frown, his eyes hard as steel. “I’m doing you a favour, Shane. You still got unresolved feelings for that woman in there. Instead of watching you make a big mistake, I’m trying to give you time to sort your feelings out.”
Kincaid spun around then and stormed back inside, leaving Shane standing there, glaring at the door. If looks could kill, the door would have been incinerated with a single glance.
After all this time, all these years, the retribution he’d envisioned for the woman who’d ruined his life still eluded him. He’d been half in love with her when she’d walked away from him, cruelly trampling upon his heart as she did so.
If she could have just waited one night—just one night—she would have discovered he’d worked out a deal for her. He’d talked the judge into putting her on probation through a work release programme. As long as Shane agreed to enforce her sentence, she could remain out of prison. He hadn’t been able to tell her himself. The judge had to be the one to deliver the news. And obviously, Shane hadn’t suspected for a second she would flee, or else he would have told her everything. She ran before he could, and when she had, any feelings he’d had for her had died right then and there. She hadn’t looked back, hadn’t wondered for a second if he’d suffered because of her selfish actions.
He’d been forced to swallow the bitter pill of his stupidity, but from that day forward, he’d promised himself he would never let a woman make a fool of him again. And he’d kept that promise—until now. Just like eight years before, Cherie was once again making a fool of him, her very freedom a slap in the face.
He could go over Kincaid’s head and send her back anyway, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to set those wheels in motion just yet, because he had no doubt, Montgomery wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if he did—and her straddling-the-law-abiding-fence husband, would probably just stand by and let her.
Shane should have known all along the law would never deliver the justice that Cherie deserved, that even if he did send her to prison for the rest of her life, he would never truly be satisfied, because he would be denied the pleasure of watching her suffer. But with Kincaid’s suggestion he could. He would be there, everyday, exacting his revenge upon her, treating her as cruelly as she’d treated him, knowing that with every breath she took, she hated him for it, but there was nothing she could do about it
Eight years ago, she’d callously and selfishly used him—and now it was his turn to do the same.
Chapter Three
Cherie stood in Shane’s modest home, her entire body shaking with fury. She didn’t know who she was angrier with. Wayne for giving Shane the idea or Shane for taking Wayne’s advice. She supposed she really couldn’t fault Wayne. He was only trying to keep her out of a federal prison. Her eyes narrowed on the man before her—no, he was the one to blame.
“The feelin’s mutual, darlin’,” Shane drawled.
Her eyes rounded. “Excuse me?”
“The look in your eyes.” His lips curled into a grin, but there was nothing amusing about the way he stared back at her. “You look like you want to shoot me. I said the feeling’s mutual.”
His words instantly deflated her anger, filling her with nothing but sadness. “I don’t want to shoot you, Shane.”
He undoubtedly hated her, and she couldn’t blame him, but she could never hate him. No matter what he did to her, she knew she would never be able to hate him. Even now, knowing what he planned for her, she still couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Although, she certainly resented him. He wanted to humiliate her—to use her. He wanted to do the same thing she’d done to him.
So here she was, standing in his bedroom, where Shane would exact his revenge upon her body for every night he’d spent in jail. Two years she would lie on her back, pretending to be his mistress. No, she corrected herself, not his mistress. At least, a mistress wanted to be there, enjoying her time spent in a man’s bed, and even if she didn’t, at the least, she was well compensated, with jewellery and nice gowns.
No, Cherie would not be well compensated—actually not compensated at all. And she certainly wouldn’t enjoy any moment in Shane’s bed. She had no doubt Shane would never think once about seeing to her pleasure. If she wanted to stay out of a federal prison, she would spread her legs for him, for two years or until he simply grew tired of fucking her. She was his whore, his to use, the way she’d used him. She was there to serve his needs, there to see to his pleasure and only his pleasure.
She glared at him, but holding on to even that bit of resentment was tiresome. She deserved his revenge, and she would let him have it. But Shane would never know how much it cost her to give it.
She hadn’t taken on a guest or even slept with a man in two years. Watching Montgomery with Wayne and her twins had given her hope again—that maybe she could have the husband and family she’d so desperately wanted for so long. When Shane had stood there, threatening to send her back to prison, she’d figured that would be her fate. But here she was, once again, in the same place she’d always been—some man’s whore. And being there was far worse than she knew being in a federal prison would have been.
Shane stared at Cherie for a long time. She hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since he’d dragged her back to his home—and that was exactly the problem. She was different from the woman h
e’d remembered. Very different. He’d caught a glimpse of the sadness in her eyes back in town, when she’d been locked in her cell, but he hadn’t been able to see past his anger. But now that there was just the two of them, and his anger had quieted, he noticed the changes in her, and they were stark.
The Cherie he’d known had been ballsy, full of life and sass—much like her friend Montgomery. The woman who stood before him now was sad, defeated, her eyes shadowed by something that haunted her. His throat closed up when she lifted her head, and he saw nothing but sorrow in her hazel eyes. He cursed under his breath. Damnation. He didn’t want to feel any compassion for this woman—hell, he didn’t want to feel anything. But he wasn’t a cruel man, without feelings, and he refused to take a woman to his bed who looked as broken as Cherie did.
He moved towards her, coming to a halt when he stood before her. “You asked what happened to me during these last eight years, and I told you.” He lifted his hand, his fingers curling around a lock of her unruly hair. It was as soft as he remembered. “But you never told me what happened to you.” He cupped her chin and raised her head when she looked to the floor. “What happened to you, Cherie?” he asked softly.
She smiled, but it was bitter, her eyes jaded. “Everything, and then nothing at all.”
He frowned. “That’s not an answer. I know you got married. What happened to him?”
Her eyes clouded over, and the jealousy that swamped him was so unexpected, so raw that he had to drop his hand from her chin out of fear that he would clench her jaw too tight and hurt her. He’d experienced a similar reaction when he’d discovered she’d gotten married. She had no right to find happiness, while he was still so bitter. And now, to see the look in her eyes at the mention of her husband, to know she’d loved this man so deeply, it heated his blood.
“He died—six months after we were wedded.”
“What happened to him?”
“Consumption. He was old. It took him quickly.” Her eyes softened. “He was a kind man. Our marriage based more on genuine friendship than true love. But I cared for him very deeply. He married me despite my past. And he never made me feel like a whore—” Her voice broke then, and when she looked away, he let her.
