by C. A. Asbrey
“He says he’s your nephew, Nat.”
“Ain’t got no nephews. Why the hell did you believe him?”
“He seemed real set on seein’ you, Nat. We searched him and he’s clean. He says he got family news, and I thought you’d be real proddy if we didn’t bring him in.”
“Well, let’s see the lyin’ little bas—”
He stopped short as the bag was pulled from Abigail’s head, instantly recognizing the disguise she had used to fool them in Pettigo.
Chuck’s mount shifted beneath him. “You know him, Nat? Or do you want us to deal with him?”
Nat fixed her with blackening, angry eyes, his stiff shoulders and crossed arms showing how unhappy he was at seeing her in his sanctuary. “I know him. He ain’t my nephew, though. More of a family friend. Bring him into my cabin.”
Men dragged from her mount and thrust her through the door before Nat slammed it behind him, clearly livid at her for daring to come to Ghost Canyon.
“What the hell are you playin’ at, Abi? Do you know what would happen if they found out who you are? Do you know what they’d do if they found out what you are?”
She nodded and slumped against a wall, gasping. “Water, please.”
Nat dragged her over to the table and thrust her into a chair. He poured out a glass, holding her gaze hostage all the way. He thumped the jug down and held the glass while she gulped greedily at the contents.
“I’m truly sorry,” she murmured as he pulled it away. “I had to see you. I’m not working. It’s personal. More—please.”
His eyes narrowed, his fury lacing a voice which became taut and dangerous. “Really, Mrs. Stewart? Just how personal do you want to get? Sounds real interesting.”
Abigail sucked in a breath as she shook her head in confusion and shock. “How—”
“Your sister told me.” He thrust the glass back at her mouth. “Drink.”
She gulped the water down, aware that his anger extended far beyond her invasion of Ghost Canyon. There were undercurrents eating at the foundation of her tenuous relationship with this unpredictable man. Abigail stared into his simmering dark pools as a flicker of fear hit her right in the belly.
He was back, the man who had so alarmed her in the cabin near Bannen. The venal outlaw leader who was prepared to deal with anyone who stood in his way, no matter who, or what, they were.
He was more than angry. He was incandescent. His eyes were alight with burning fury, and it was all fixed on Abigail. The butterflies in her stomach spiraled as the duality of the man hit her, the danger lurking just below the surface of the sparkling charm. The brighter the sun, the darker the shadows—and this was especially true of Nat Quinn.
He stalked over to the table and perched on the edge, glowering into her widening eyes. “I’m an idiot, huh? You led me on by the nose, and all the while you’re married?” He shrugged. “Not that I’d worry about that, but it’s your lies that get me. It makes me wonder what else you’re lying about.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. It never seemed—”
“Important?” he yelled straight in her face. “You’ve got a husband and you never thought that was important? Maybe you were playin’ games, Abi. I wasn’t.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “It is important. One of the most important things that ever happened to me.”
“But not worth a mention?” He leaned over and snarled once more, “You’re married!”
“It’s personal. I don’t share my personal life with you. With any criminal.”
He stood inches from her face and bent at the waist, his hot breath burning into her cheeks as he spoke slowly and deliberately. “I’m not just any criminal.”
He pulled out his knife and sliced through the ropes binding her hands before he paused, collecting his thoughts. When he spoke again, it was with a terse charm that made her blood run cold. “Why’re you here now? What exactly do you want?”
“My sister. You met my sister.”
His eyebrows flicked up, his initial anger subsiding into flickers of wicked waywardness. The roguish side started to surface, and there could be only one target. “Yup. I guess she told you all about it.”
“No. Nobody’s seen her. You’re the last people I know who’ve spoken to her from the witness statements from the train robbery. That’s why I’ve come. I told you, I’m not working. She’s run away from home and I have to find her.”
“She looks like the kind of woman who could always find a man to protect her. She’ll be fine.” He stood staring right into her face before his eyes widened and he gave her an unsavory grin. “So, you want information? Every time we meet we’re in your world, but you’re in mine, now, and I hold all the cards. It begs the question…what are you prepared to do for it? There ain’t anythin’ for free here in Ghost Canyon.”
She suddenly felt very vulnerable as he started to pull away the wig to reveal the woman beneath. “Mr. Quinn—”
“Still sticking with that Mr. Quinn crap? You don’t want to use my first name because it’s an illusion of distance? I ain’t buyin’ it.” He leaned in once more. “You’re involved elsewhere. It’s just another way of lying to me. I thought you were smarter than this.”
“I’m not lying to you. I came here to see you about my—”
“You’re here to try to undo any damage your sister did to your game. I’m not an idiot, but you just might be. Comin’ in here alone has gotta be one of the dumbest things you ever did.”
His laugh was cold and empty as his hands trailed over her head, batting away her fluttering hands until he lifted the wig and worked at the tight pleats to release the tumbling mane of black curls from their cap and pins beneath. He ran his fingers through her thick corkscrews until they fell in gleaming waves to her waist. He nodded. “Better. Much better.”
His brown eyes softened as long, delicate fingers probed into her hair, seeking out the scar concealed beneath the hairline. His brow furrowed at the memory of the terrible wound which had so shocked him in Everlasting. The tender side didn’t last long, though. It was quickly crowded out by him focusing on the here, the now, and her betrayal.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was married. I was protecting myself with an alias. That’s all. I don’t have time for games, Mr. Quinn. I’m worried sick about my sister. Please, just answer my questions—urghh.” A wet cloth to the face robbed her of speech, and he began to rub the dust and make-up from her face until she was a disheveled female again. “My sister is in danger, and I need to find her. I need to find out what she told you, if anything.”
“She was fine the last time we saw her. Hale, hearty, and as pretty a little thing as I ever laid eyes on. Now, you, on the other hand? We got unfinished business. You left us in jail, remember, and then you turn up here as the worst kind of user. You led me on and didn’t even take the time to tell me you belonged to another man.”
She scowled. “Belong? I don’t belong to any man. Marriage isn’t slavery.”
Nat’s eyes glittered dangerously before he continued in a hoarse whisper, his anger robbing his accent of its refinement. “You’re a liar and who knows what else. Let’s find out, huh? After all, there’s nothin’ else to do at the moment, and we got nothin’ but time.” A hand slid behind her head and pulled her face to meet his smiling lips, pausing just before they touched. His hot breath brushed over her skin. “You can scream if you want, but then they’ll know that a woman got in here—and I wouldn’t recommend that. Everyone in the gang will want a piece of you.”
Her chin set in anger. “You’re playing power games, Mr. Quinn? When have I ever used you?” She glowered into his acquisitive stare. “What did Madeleine say to you?”
“Oh, Abi. It’s not that simple.” He released her and chucked her under the chin. “Tell me about your husband, first. Everythin’ costs here, and it was your choice to ride into this place.”
“It’s none of your business. That’s not why I’m here.”
“
He’s the doctor, isn’t he? The one who treated you in Everlasting? Tom Bartlett? But that’s not his real name.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why would you think Tom was my husband? He’s my colleague.”
“You’re special to him. I could tell. What’s the deal? You’re the bait for his line?”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’m here about my sister. You talked to her and she’s run away from home. What did she say? Who was she with?”
He walked back to the table, leaning against it with his arms folded while his eyes glistened with malignant laughter. “Fine. Makes no difference to me, but you don’t get to just walk out of here, lady. You go when I say so. You want to play games? I got nothin’ better to do, and you’ve got my full attention. We lay low between a spate of jobs, so I can give you two or three months if it calls for it. Think how much fun we can have in that time.” A slim brow flicked up. “Will he be worried about you? Does he care?”
“Why does this matter to you so much?” Her mouth firmed into an obstinate line. “I didn’t tell you I’d never married. I never said I was single, either.”
“Ever heard of dissimulation, Abi?” He tilted his head. “Miss MacKay you said your name was. Miss. Since when was that anything but a single woman?”
Her face clouded over as her voice cracked with emotion. Unable to maintain a front any longer, her stoicism crumbled as her ugly past reared up. A storm raged in her dark eyes as she spoke in a voice crackling with emotion. “You want to know it all? Fine. My husband’s dead, Mr. Quinn. He died six weeks before my father was murdered. It was really sudden, and totally unexpected. Peritonitis, after a case of cramp colic.” Her eyes welled with caustic tears and her voice broke. “We had been married fourteen months, and I truly loved him with all my heart. I was devastated, but at least I was pregnant, and still had part of our life together to look forward to.”
Abigail began to tremble, her top lip wobbling as angst seized control. “I invested all my heart in the child I carried. It was the only chink of light in my life.” She paused, her eyes closing as the memories flooded back. “But when my father was murdered I lost our son through the shock of finding his body. My father was killed by a shot to the head after standing up to extortionists. I went into premature labor at seven months. I nearly went mad with grief.” Her voice broke, anguish catching in her throat.
Streams of glistening tears ran from blind eyes full of painful memories. “He was so beautiful. A tiny wee thing. He was perfect, but I just couldn’t keep him safe enough to survive. I failed him.” Nat remained silent and allowed her to sob before she spoke once more as she clutched at her chest. “My heart literally broke. The pain was physical and disabling. Now, there’s Maddie. She’s in danger, real danger, and I can’t lose anyone else. I just can’t lose—” Her throat caught in a guttural gasp. “I know I’ll never cope with losing her too. She’s the baby of the family, and she’s run away with a killer. I can’t fail her, too.”
Abigail’s head dropped forward, a curtain of hair masking the running tears and her dripping nose. It was not a pretty cry. It was a deep, primal scream against grief, hopelessness, and injustice. Nothing about this trembling breakdown was for effect. She was lost in a howling, keening lament; the pain of the loss still as raw and harrowing as the moment it happened.
Nat stepped forward encircling her in his arms. “Hey, she’s fine.”
She stood, shaking her head as she blinked back desperate tears from black eyes full of nightmares and torment. “It feels like—” she groped for the right words as he swayed back and forth, “—like all the light has gone—all the meaning, and I’ve been left so alone. I can’t go any deeper down that black hole. I’ll never come out of it. My baby—that was the end. The very end. It stripped me inside and out. I didn’t have a shred of anything left but anger and pain. I had nothing to live for. Not a single thing.”
Nat stroked the hair back from her face. He could identify with a nagging ache which stole a person’s future by inches.
She shook him off, wiping her face on her grubby sleeves and raising her head with injured pride. Teardrops still spangled her lashes as she sniffed. Anger flared in her eyes as she pulled herself together and refocused her escalating emotions on Nat. She didn’t erupt easily, but when she did, the passions flowed like burning lava.
“Is there anything else you want to know?” she demanded as her slim eyebrows rose in challenge while she gulped back tears. “Or will you talk to me sensibly? I need to find my sister. The man she’s run away with is very dangerous.” Her voice rose as her emotions mounted. She pushed Nat away, punching at his shoulders with both fists. The surprise in his eyes signaled that she’d hit him with much more force than he expected.
“If you’re not going to help, you can go to hell. You want to exact a price for information?” She lashed out again and caught him on the chin as he pulled back. “Don’t expect any damned joy from it, a càc a' choin. Don’t be stupid enough to fall asleep around me, either. I’ll kill you, you bastard.”
“Enough!” He caught her wrists and pulled them together in one hand. A long finger brushed away a tear before he enveloped her in a wriggling hug. “Lots of things about you make sense now—your disregard for your own safety, throwing yourself into work, keeping people at a distance. I’m sorry Abi. I was angry. Of course I’ll help,” he murmured softly into her ear. “I wish I could tell you you’ll never hurt again, but we both know life’s not like that. You’re not alone. I’ll be there.”
“You?” She sniffed hard. “I came here looking for help and you play games with me.” She slipped out of his arms and faced him. “Your hurt pride is the main thing, of course. Your need to do what you want, whenever you want. Your bloody selfishness. What did I ever see in you?”
Nat stared into her eyes. “Yourself?” He shrugged. “A version of it, anyway. What you’d have done to survive if you’d had to? I see what I might have been if I’d made better choices.” He stared at her. “It’s compelling, isn’t it? We’re made of the same stuff.”
Abigail stopped dead at the realization that he was right.
“We understand one another in a way most people don’t.” A muscle clenched in Nat’s jaw. “That’s why I felt so betrayed at the thought of you lying to me. It’s why I was so angry—mostly at myself, for being fooled.”
“But I didn’t,” she stammered.
“Yeah,” Nat smiled at her like she was a particularly simple child. “I’ve never been happier to be wrong in my life.” He stepped toward her, a strange, tense frown working over his brow. “I’m sorry. You should have had family, and security, and love. You should have had anything you wanted from life, but what can I say? I’d never have met you without it.” He shook his dark head. “I’m not sorry about that. I’d do anything to protect you from that sort of pain, but I’ll never regret meeting you.”
He held her tightly with both arms as she started to sob again, the great wracking, heaving, painful gulps of the left-behind. Her long fingers grabbed his shirt, curling into the fabric as though hanging on for her very life. He hugged her close and murmured in velvet tones. “Let it out. I’ll help you. You ain’t gonna lose her, too. Not if I got anythin’ to do with it. I’m sorry, Abi.” His eyes narrowed as practicalities struck him. “When did you last eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He nodded. “You’re probably too tired to be hungry. You live out East, don’t you? You’ve got to have been traveling for a week.”
“Less than that. I traveled all night wherever I could.”
“No wonder you’re wrung out. You can’t have slept properly for days. Bed, Abi. We’ll talk when you’ve rested. Just don’t leave this cabin or go near the windows. The gang’ll have both our hides.”
Nat led her to his room and dragged the curtains closed before he joined her on the brass bed. He gently rocked her against his hard body as the floodgates opened for her yet again. Almost
six years’ worth of grief poured out, but Abigail allowed it all to gush, unable to stem the flow. There was no one to be strong for anymore, no one to protect, and no one to shield. Then, after a little time, she wept for that, too.
♦◊♦
She eventually drifted off into a fitful, uneasy sleep. Her dreams seemed to be filled with the faces of the lost and the pursuit of some kind of unseen horror which made her moan and twitch rather than rest.
Nat cradled her in his arms, holding her beside him on his bed as the light faded. The sobs and the weeping gradually subsided and gave way to deep, slow breaths and uneasy slumber. She was restive, but she slowly gave in to exhaustion, and rested. He propped himself up on one arm and picked away the strands of hair covering her face, staring down at her sleeping form. So, the ice maiden’s defenses had melted. What was going to be left behind?
She stirred, turning to face him with reddened eyes and tried to force a smile. “You’re still here?”
“Where else am I gonna go?”
“I’m sorry.”
He returned a look which could have been poured on a waffle. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Stop trying to be something for everyone else. Be yourself.” The back of his forefinger trailed over her cheek. “Be human. Not enough people are human.”
“I’d put it all away,” she said. “I’d finished being a mother or a wife. I had to find another way of being in the world. Alan Pinkerton had known my father in Scotland, and took an interest in the investigation into his murder. He found me easier to control if he employed me. I suddenly had something to get up for once more. It’s not the life I dreamed of, but it has some meaning.”
“And you’re damned good at it, darlin’, but it’s not all there is to you. I’m more than just a criminal, after all.”
Abigail sighed. “What are we going to do, Nat?”
His face dimpled in delight at her using his name. “Do?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What do you want to do?”
