by Carol Finch
Teeth clenched against the pain, Cale contorted his abused body to retrieve the dagger. He nicked his thumb while cutting the rope from his wrist, but he got the job done. Slicing a finger was the least of his problems at the moment.
Marshaling his strength, he fought his way to his hands and knees. The darkness in the cave teetered sideways and he cursed the dizzy sensations spinning around his head. No matter how bad he felt he was going to fight his way from this hellhole and locate Hanna. She had rainbows to chase, and he’d be damned if he’d be the reason her life was cut short. This was all his fault. It might take his last dying breath to get it done, but he’d find her and apologize for putting her through hell.
Cale inhaled a cathartic breath and focused on the images of his half brother, sister-in-law and Hanna—most especially Hanna. He’d loved them, every one, and he’d never gotten around to saying so. It had taken a few brain-scrambling blows to get his feelings in proper perspective, but he had his head on straight now—sort of.
On hands and knees, Cale crawled toward the mouth of the cave to determine the odds against him. Three to one. Okay, more realistically it was three to one-third. But if he could calculate fractions, then he still had enough mental capability to figure out how to get the hell out of here.
Cale squinted toward the three men, who were propped against the sandstone cliff, passing around a whiskey bottle. He had a toast of his own that he’d like to share with them, and it looked as if the timing was about as good as it was ever going to get. Relying on sheer will—and a body that moved sluggishly—Cale quickly devised a plan then put it into action.
The moment Otis shoveled Hanna through his front door she spun to face his leering smile. How to play this situation to her advantage? she mused. She wanted to spit in his face, claw out his eyes and hold a pistol to his head until he told her where his men were holding Cale captive. Unfortunately, her hostility wasn’t going to help Cale’s chances of survival. She had to make Otis let his guard down so he’d untie her.
The handy little derringer that Cale had encouraged her to strap to her thigh wouldn’t do her any good until her hands were free. Worse, with Otis standing there, looking at her as if he wanted to gobble her alive, she couldn’t grab the dagger tucked in her kid boot to cut herself free. She desperately needed time alone.
“Now then,” Otis said as he swaggered up to trail his index finger over her cheek. “Your inconvenience of a husband is out of our way and it’s time you took me up on the invitation I offered earlier.” His gaze drifted to the staircase, as if she didn’t understand what he implied.
“And if I promise to join you in bed, are you planning to spare my husband’s life? Although you successfully managed to turn my head, my conscience forbids me from permanently disposing of the man I rashly married for no other reason than to escape my domineering father’s control. I will not see Grayson McCloud die, just to ensure I’m not eternally damned for adultery. Surely you realize that I’m not quite that ruthless.”
Otis smiled faintly as he visually undressed her with his licentious gaze. “A woman of principles. I do admire that, my dear. So what shall we do with that inconvenient husband of yours?”
“Send him away,” she suggested. “After the beating your men gave him and the lack of interest I’ve shown the past few days I doubt he’ll feel compelled to retrieve me.”
“You think not?” Otis studied her dubiously. “And what of your touching display to escape me so you could run to him while he lay defeated in the street?”
Hanna knew she had to sound convincing if she was going to trick Otis into believing she posed no physical threat and had no sincere interest in Cale. “And how would it have looked to the citizens of Cromwell if I hadn’t shown compassion to my husband?” she argued, looking down her nose at him as haughtily as she knew how.
Hanna could portray her father’s daughter if needed. It was easy for his words to come pouring from her mouth—she’d certainly heard them so often that she’d memorized them. “You see, Otis, I’ve discovered that nothing is quite so important as the perception society has of you. Your worth and importance are judged by that perception. My image in town can only be redeemed if the townsfolk believe I didn’t willingly abandon Grayson to enjoy the material benefits you can offer that he cannot.”
Otis frowned pensively. No doubt he was trying to decide if he believed her.
“Our liaison won’t be satisfactory for either of us if you don’t realize that keeping up appearances is vitally important to me. I will not walk the streets of Cromwell and have people looking down on me as if I’m a traitor and a harlot who changed loyalty because you’re more prosperous than my husband. You should be aware that I’m loyal to my image as well as interested in the luxuries you can provide. Make no mistake about that.
“Now then,” she added, staring pointedly at him. “Am I going upstairs with you willingly or are you going to have a fight on your hands to consummate this liaison?”
Hanna had the feeling she was talking over Otis’s head and that he was having difficulty keeping up with her rationalizations and conclusions. The man’s intelligence was noticeably inferior to Cale’s, she noted. She’d have to remember to use that to her advantage, too.
“Well?” she prompted when he stood there, attempting to digest all she’d said. “Untie my hands.”
“I think,” he said eventually, “that I’m not going to be hasty in deciding how loyal you are to me.”
“Probably wise,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll be testing you, too, of course. The next match I make won’t be as hasty as the first, on that you can depend. But as I said, Grayson McCloud served his purpose well enough.”
When she twirled around, he snatched her arm and reeled her back to him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To see to my needs, and it would be much easier if my hands weren’t tied behind my back. I trust you have accommodations upstairs?”
He studied her indecisively. “I don’t think I trust you, my dear Hanna.”
“And I’m beginning to wonder if I didn’t make an error in judgment by trading my husband for you. Perhaps I let your wealth and influence in Cromwell sway me too hastily. Is there someone else around here who approaches your power and position? Perhaps I should look further before I decide where to place my allegiance.”
“No,” he said fiercely. “You’re going to belong to me.”
She sniffed superciliously. “Then give me good reason to stay, Otis. And please make it something besides a tumble in bed. From past experience I’ve discovered that most men aren’t exceptionally good lovers. That leaves only the promise of wealth and influential position that commands respect and ensures preferential treatment.”
Hanna bit back a wicked grin when Otis puffed up in indignation. Criticizing a man’s skills in the boudoir was obviously the quickest way to offend him.
“If you haven’t been satisfied in bed then you’ve obviously been sleeping with the wrong men, Hanna,” he insisted arrogantly.
Ah good, she’d definitely trounced on his male pride. She’d turn that against him, too. “Well, that remains to be seen. Now are you going to untie me or must I perform acrobatics to see to my needs?”
After a moment he strode behind her to untie her hands, then breathed down her neck. “Give me only one reason to distrust you, my dear, and I’ll make you damn sorry.”
“Dreadfully sorry,” she corrected flippantly. “Your manners need some work, Otis. A gentleman doesn’t swear in the presence of a lady. I’ve had to give the same lesson to my husband.”
“You’re not quite the woman I first thought you were,” he said, appraising her carefully.
“You aren’t the charming gentleman you led me to believe you were, either. I guess that makes us even,” she countered as she rubbed her wrists to revive the circulation in her hands. “Now, I need a moment of privacy. I don’t have to go outside to find it, do I?”
He gestured toward the stairs without taking his eyes off her. “I’ll be up to join you in a few minutes.”
The comment hung heavily in the air and Hanna battled to keep her repulsion from showing. “I hope it will be pleasant. I’ve had my fill of a man whose only concern was to satisfy his own needs.” With that, Hanna sauntered toward the stairs, ensuring she had his undivided attention. Otis, she vowed, wasn’t going to get the reception he anticipated. She turned on the landing to stare quizzically at him. “Which way to our room?”
“Second door on the left,” he told her, flashing a lecherous grin. “I took the liberty of buying you lingerie to celebrate our first evening together.”
She arched her brow and made herself return his smile. “Ah, my first gift from you. Thank you, Otis. It’s a start, but I’ll be expecting more.”
Hanna forced herself to walk regally up the remainder of the steps rather than making a mad dash to the bedroom to lock and barricade the door. She’d picked a battle she thought she might be able to win. Now she had to find a way to catch Otis off guard and use him as her pawn and hostage.
Once inside the room, Hanna sagged against the door, then dragged in a steadying breath. It was the first time in her life that she wanted to thank her father for his arrogance and his habit of bowling over individuals to ensure his will was done. She hadn’t asked for Otis’s cooperation, she’d demanded it, as if it were her natural-born right.
Think! Hanna railed silently. She had only a few minutes to decide how to handle Otis and devise a way to get past the armed guards posted around the house.
Her gaze swung to the bed, which had been turned down in preparation for Otis’s seductive tryst. She frowned disapprovingly when she spied the skimpy red corset that looked as if it had been designed for a madam in a house of ill repute. Indecent though the garment was, Hanna decided that stuffing herself into it would serve to keep Otis distracted.
This was definitely the site of another battle she could win. Her armor might be no more than lacy lingerie, but she’d have a dagger in her boot and a derringer tucked behind her back when Otis walked in—with other things on his mind besides defending himself against her. The tables were definitely going to turn, she promised herself fiercely.
Hurriedly, Hanna peeled off her respectable satin gown and wormed into the skintight corset that was cut so low her breasts all but spilled from the bloodred lace. The garment hugged her waist like a second skin and barely covered her hips. Pleated ruffles that rode indecently high on her thighs adorned the seductive getup. Although her sense of modesty objected, Hanna was desperate and determined. At least she didn’t have to disrobe for that disgusting bastard, she consoled herself.
A sense of panic threatened her composure when she heard footfalls in the hall. She had to act calm and self-assured. She had to outsmart Otis, because Cale’s life hung in the balance.
Julius had to give Skeet credit. The poor beast belonged in an animal infirmary, but he hobbled and whimpered through the two-mile jaunt to Pryor’s ranch. Arliss Fenton used the time to fill Julius and Pierce in on the criminal activity in Cromwell. Julius didn’t have a clue what Cale’s or Hanna’s interest was in Pryor. But the bastard had sure ’nuff invited Julius’s and Pierce’s wrath by preying on the newlyweds.
As for the Pinkertons, they were unusually quiet. Licking their wounds, no doubt. Walter Malloy was still dressing them down, and then threatening to see them dismissed from their positions at the agency.
Julius couldn’t let that one alone. Grinning devilishly, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “If you boys lose your cushy jobs I’ll put in a good word for you to Judge Parker. Pay’s lousy. Accommodations stink. But you don’t have to get trussed up in those dapper suits and prissy hats to chase criminals.”
Having been stripped of their arrogance and dignity, thanks to Malloy’s verbal thrashing, the agents actually grinned at Julius’s taunt. Well hell, he was starting to like these Pinkertons.
Julius’s thoughts trailed off and he became instantly alert when he heard the sound of a horse scrabbling down the slope. In the darkness he couldn’t spot a mount or rider, but he drew his pistol, just to be on the safe side.
Ordinarily, Skeet was quick to growl or snarl a warning, but the poor mutt just hobbled torturously along the narrow path.
“There are caves up ahead,” Arliss murmured quietly. “Maybe that’s where Pryor stashed Cale.”
“I don’t know why we’re wasting precious time looking for that worthless half-breed when my daughter’s life is in perilous danger,” Walter grumbled. “If she isn’t up here I’ll never let you Pinkertons hear the end of it.”
Julius was pretty sure Malloy wasn’t going to let anybody hear the end of anything. But despite Malloy’s annoying qualities, it was obvious that he was desperate to have his daughter back.
“Wait here,” Pierce murmured when he spotted a dark crevice in the sandstone cliff.
With both his pistols drawn and cocked, Pierce inched toward the cave, then disappeared inside. Julius’s shoulders slumped in disappointment when Pierce didn’t fire a single shot. A moment later, the deputy stepped outside and stared down the hill toward the ranch house.
“Well?” Walter Malloy demanded impatiently.
Pierce returned to his horse and mounted up. “From the look of things, Cale was here and gone.”
“And how can you tell that?” Walter asked, then smirked. “Leave you a note, did he?”
Pierce stared down the cocky gent. “No, sir, but you can add three more to the head count of men who tangled with Marshal Elliot—and lost. That’s eight so far.”
“But I saw him in the street,” Arliss choked out. “Pryor’s men nearly beat him to a pulp and shot him. How could he possibly have managed to take down three more men in his condition?”
Julius reined his horse around and took great satisfaction in saying, “We don’t call Cale Elliot the last man standing for nothing. The devil himself would think twice about taking him on half-dead.” Julius fixed his somber gaze on Walter Malloy. “Sir, in between your ranting and raving, you might ought to send up a prayer of thanks that Cale Elliot is on your daughter’s side.”
“Yes, well…” Walter shifted in the saddle, clearly unwilling to give an inch. He frowned curiously as he stared into the distance. “Now where’s that mangled mutt headed?”
“My guess is the house,” Pierce answered grimly. “If that’s where Skeet’s headed then that’s where Cale’s headed, which means that’s probably where Hanna is being held.”
“Then what the blazes are we waiting for?” Walter demanded. “You Pinkertons get down there and earn your wages. I want my daughter back!”
Agent Sykes tilted his head toward the silhouettes of guards that patrolled the house. “That fortress is heavily protected, Mr. Malloy.”
“I don’t care how many men are standing guard. I have to find my daughter!” Walter wheeled his horse around and clattered downhill.
Pierce glanced grimly at Julius as the procession headed toward the ranch house. Julius had the twitchy feeling that all hell was about to break loose, and he prayed nonstop that Hanna wouldn’t be caught in the middle. Walter Malloy would see to it that heads rolled if his daughter came to harm.
Chapter Seventeen
When the door swung open Hanna struck a seductive pose on the far side of the bedroom. She forced herself to smile invitingly as Otis’s gaze ran over her in lusty approval.
“You were definitely worth the wait,” he purred as he shed his brocade vest and unbuttoned his shirt.
“More importantly,” she said, “I hope you won’t prove to be the same disappointment my husband was. I found his impatience tiresome.”
Hanna watched Otis cast aside his shirt, and found herself comparing the man’s chest to Cale’s. There was no contest. Even if Otis wasn’t a treacherous murderer he wouldn’t have appealed to Hanna, because she had eyes for only one man—and he desperately needed her help.
>
When Otis reached down to unfasten his breeches, Hanna pulled the derringer from behind her back and aimed it directly at his private parts. “No need for that, Otis. I’ve had a change of heart.”
His look of surprise transformed into a vicious glower. But then he smirked at the pistol she had trained on him. “And you expect me to believe you’d pull the trigger?”
“I really don’t care what you believe,” she told him. “I’ve changed my mind. Call it fickle female whim, if you wish, but it dawned on me that now you’ve gotten my husband out of my way, I have control over my trust fund and I don’t need the security a man can provide.”
His smirk became a growl as he stalked toward her. “We’re through playing games,” he snarled at her.
“No, we’re not,” she snapped, all pretended arrogance forgotten. “You’re going to lead me out of this house and past your guards. If you don’t, then you’ll be dead and I’ll find my own way out—”
Suddenly Otis lunged at her, and Hanna was left with no choice but to assure him that she meant business. She squeezed the trigger and fired at his thigh, knowing she’d alert the guards and would soon have another fight on her hands.
“You little bitch!” Otis yelped as he grabbed his wounded leg.
He tried to backhand her, but Hanna bounded over the bed and dashed from the room. She could hear Otis spewing profanity as he gave chase on his injured leg. Hanna flew down the steps, hoping against hope that she could reach the shotgun Otis kept in the gun case beside the front door before his guards barreled into the house.
She thanked her lucky stars that Otis had locked the front door when they’d arrived. It was all that kept the guards from bursting inside and apprehending her before she could grab the shotgun and ensure it was loaded. She glanced back to see Otis hobbling down the steps, a pistol clamped in his hand. Hurriedly, she swung the shotgun toward him and took his measure.
Stalemate.
