Catch Me (3 page)

“Jesus,” he breathed. He drew her into his arms and hugged her so tight her ribs clenched. “That’s the way of it, my girl. Fathers die before their daughters.”

She pushed out of his grip. She couldn’t afford to entertain guilt over her actions. Regret would take her apart piece by piece. “He deserved it. If he’d had a dozen banks, I’d have robbed every one. You didn’t see him. He seemed to almost…
enjoy
it when I told him you could die.”

Father’s gaze went cloudy as he looked out the window. “Yes. Yes, I can understand that.”

“Why?” She wiped away another spate of tears. So much for remaining strong. “How could he do that to you? To us? You two were supposed to be friends. It’s his fault we don’t have any money.”

Father shook his head, but he wouldn’t look back at her. “He didn’t force me to invest in that railroad line.”

“Or the mines? Or the stock ventures?” Her hands tightened into fists. “Every opportunity he’s steered you to has gone badly, while his continue to make him richer.”

A huge sigh shook him. “He offered me a chance to invest in every single one, kitten. I was the one who picked badly.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Probably not. But then, life isn’t fair in general.” He turned away from the window and his deep gaze bore into her. “We’ll go together and I’ll appeal to his sense of friendship to overlook the situation. If we bring the money back, I’m sure he’ll let bygones be bygones.”

“I doubt it.” She pouted her truculence. “He’s got no speck of loyalty in his bones.”

A wry smile tweaked his mouth. “Unlike you.”

“Besides, it’s too late.” She crossed her arms over her waist and cinched her fear in tight. “I’ve already deposited the funds with the director. You’ve no choice but to stay and get well, or I’ll tell the doctors that you seem completely irrational. They’ll never believe I robbed a bank.”

“You’ve no choice, kitten. Masterson will send the law after you.”

Maggie ducked her head and inspected her dirt-covered boots.

“He already has, hasn’t he?” Suspicion colored his words. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.”

He sighed again and leaned against the wall. His already narrow frame collapsed into itself. “Don’t lie to me. Not at this point. I don’t think I could take it.”

She couldn’t bear to see him so disheartened. “Nothing, really. I felt as if I was being watched for a day or two, that’s all.” She wasn’t exactly lying, just omitting the full truth.

“Masterson will send bounty hunters after you. They’re the worst sort of scum.”

Collier hadn’t seemed that bad to her. In fact, his manner had been surprisingly gentlemanly when he’d greeted her and spoke rationally about how going with him was her only choice. Too bad she hadn’t been in a rational state of mind lately.

“Come. Let’s go down to the dining room and have a nice supper together. You can tell me all about your activities here.”

He shook his head. “Because you can’t tell me about what you’ve been up to, robbing banks and all?”

She sighed. “You’re right, Father. Masterson will send someone to hunt me. So I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay. Let’s not cloud our time together with unhappiness.”

“Sometimes you are a pure-dee fool, my girl.”

“Yes, I’m sure I am.” She held out a hand so they could leave together. “But I’ll be a pure-dee fool with a father. And that’s the only thing I need.”

After supper, they’d retired to a beautifully decorated parlor along with a few other residents. They’d taken turns entertaining each other with reading aloud and the occasional ballad accompanied by the upright piano tucked in the corner. But for the incessant chatter of a Mrs. Haverly, it had been one of the best evenings Maggie could remember in quite a long time. Father’s energy and verve had lasted much longer than he’d been able to stand since first becoming sick.

She’d rented a room in the only hotel on the grounds of the sanitarium, and as soon as the door closed behind her, Maggie yanked the pins from her hair. Her neck ached with the unfamiliar weight of wearing it so high, as well as the tension of the last few months. That bounty hunter had haunted her mind all day. Something about the easy way he’d advanced on her perch, like a predator, both frightened her and awoke an unfamiliar sort of interest.

He hadn’t been the tallest man she’d ever seen, but he’d likely tower a full head over her. She shivered a little remembering the breadth of his shoulders. They’d been wide enough that if he’d lain over a female, she’d be fully covered and protected, the way a woman should be.

She scrubbed across the back of her neck, then ran her hands through her hair to loosen knots. She couldn’t wait to drop into bed and sleep.

“Keep your hands in the air.” The ratchet of a pistol hammer accompanied the words. As the daughter of a lawman she’d recognize that sound anywhere.

Maggie froze. Her hands remained where they were, a few locks of hair still caught between her fingers. The clock on the dresser ticked so loudly she thought it must be audible five rooms over. Her throat clicked as she tried to swallow past the desert that had sprung up in her mouth. Fear turned her into a loosely strung puppet.

She turned as slowly as possible.

Dean Collier stood next to the door. He must have hidden behind it as she entered. He leaned those broad shoulders against the wall, propping it up. Somewhere along the way he’d removed his wide-brimmed hat, and sweat dampened his hair, so he couldn’t have been waiting long. Plastered into a flat line, his mouth was almost too big for his face, but it was well matched by his long nose. Rock hard thighs led down to legs that were crossed at the ankle, the very picture of relaxation. His long black traveling coat was gone, revealing a finely cut suit of clothes she wouldn’t expect a bounty hunter to own.

He held a long-barreled pistol in his hand, pointed straight at her. At her heart, as a matter of fact.

“You,” she spit.

He inclined his head, but the gun never wavered. “Me.”

Her heart thumped in triple time under her breastbone, trying to scramble away from that awful gun. She’d never had one aimed at her before. “How did you know where I’d be? I didn’t even know which room I’d take until fifteen minutes ago.”

“There’s only one hotel on the grounds,” he drawled. He leaned against the wall with an assurance that set Maggie’s skin to crawling. “After that, I had only to leave a copy of your wanted poster at the front desk, along with a five dollar bill, and I was well assured of you being assigned to this room.”

“You underhanded, black-hearted—”

He cocked his head to the side and a shock of dark blond hair dropped across his forehead. He didn’t look like he’d ever even touched a canister of pomade, much less ever applied it to his hair. “I’m sorry, did you think we were playing parlor games? It didn’t much feel like it when you had a gun pointed at
me
. You robbed a bank, Maggie. There’s no getting out of that.”

She shook her head, but she didn’t see a way out. Collier stood too close to the door, and the room was on the third floor. Though there was a window, she had no idea what lay behind it and no self-sacrificing impulse that would encourage throwing herself out. “Can’t you please let me have a little time? I only want to spend a few days with my father. He could be dying.”

His eyes were an implacable, ice cold blue. “No.”

Her hands twisted into fists. “Don’t you have a heart?”

“Not near as I can tell.” He twirled a hand in a
let’s move on
motion. “I don’t have time for this jaw jacking. You can come easily, or you can come hard. There’s no option beyond that.”

“I won’t go willingly, you can lay odds on that.” She’d do anything for a few moments more with her father, and wouldn’t give them up to make some low-life bounty hunter happy.

“I expected that.”

He came away from the wall in a flash of wickedly elegant movement. He flipped his gun into the holster in a blur as he reached for her. Maggie scrambled back as fast as she could and ducked his outstretched hand. But he feinted, not grabbing her as she’d expected. Instead, he pushed her hard to the bed. She drew back a fist and tried to punch him, but it didn’t land. He gripped her wrist then yanked her arm around, forcing her to her belly.

Terror spiked through her and turned her into a rabid animal. She kicked, threw elbows and tried to reach her free hand around to claw his eyes out. Her heels jammed into his shins. She screamed, but he pushed her face into a pillow with his forearm.

“Quiet down,” he growled.

“Go to hell,” she screamed back, but it was muffled.

“If you were a man, I’d have punched you by now.”

She only fought harder.

He muttered and cursed under his breath, and then pulled Maggie’s second hand behind her back. She felt twine wrap round and round before he let go. He moved down the bed and flipped up her skirts.

Maggie froze for a second. What…What if he tried something else? She kicked out hard and felt the satisfying smack of a connection that echoed up her leg. She scrambled forward on her knees, but a big paw of a hand clamped around her thigh. More twine wound about her ankles.

Just like that she was helpless.

Tears threatened but she pushed her face into the pillow. She’d be damned if she’d show him such weakness.

“Come on,” he said. He gripped her by the shoulders and levered her up to sit at the edge of the bed.

She kicked at him again with her bound feet, but he jumped out of the way. “Untie me this instant, you bastard.”

“Like hell I will. You’re a menace.” He rolled his shoulder and then rubbed at the top of it. “I warned you this could go easy or hard. It’s not my fault you picked the tough way.”

She glared at him. “Go to hell.”

He made a
tsk
noise with tongue and teeth. “You’re repeating yourself already.”

“You want something new? You are a stone-cold bastard and your mama should have drowned you at birth.”

“Is that any way to talk to the man in charge of your welfare?”

Sweat plastered her loose hair to her face. She tried to blow it out of her eyes but it just flipped back. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you order me around.”

He eyed the twine about her wrists. “I’ve heard the devil can be real sweet if you get on his good side.”

She wiped her bound hands across her forehead and finally got her hair pushed back. “Fuck you, Collier.”

“The devil’s gonna love that mouth you’ve got on you.” He skirted the edge of the bed and knelt down to draw a saddlebag and a long black duster from the floor under the quilt. “Don’t bother relaxing. We’re leaving this fine establishment.”

She twisted to watch him. He took a ball of thick leather straps from the bag and sat on the opposite edge of the bed. Too close for her tastes, even though she perched as far away as possible. “Aren’t you scared to have people see you’re kidnapping a woman?”

He glanced up from under lashes a shade or two darker than his blond hair. “I’ve got a wanted order on you. That’s not even nearly kidnapping. It’s just easier this way.”

Nails bit into the tender skin of her palms. “I’ll scream this place down.”

He drew a length of pale, rough leather through his fingers. “The management knows what’s going on in here. No one will come.”

She sucked air into her lungs then let it loose with a banshee scream.

Collier cussed and tossed the straps. He leapt on her, one hand slammed across her mouth. The heavy weight of his body ground her flat to the bed. She fought, clasping her hands together and doing her best to punch him in the guts. But with their bodies pressed so near she couldn’t get the leverage.

“Jesus,” Collier muttered, as his free hand dug in his open saddlebag.

She snapped at his palm. She’d give anything to draw blood. He yanked it back, only to shove some sort of cloth in her mouth.

He rolled off her. “You are one unnatural hellcat.”

She kicked him, but only grazed his shins with her boot toes. He leaped up and stood at the foot of the bed. One hand went to the gun belt hanging low about his lean hips, while the other pinched his temple. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

Let me go,
she tried to say with her eyes. Her only wish was to have more time with her father. Not so much to ask. Other women got to live long, happy lives with their entire family. All she wanted was the only scrap she had left.

Suddenly, he loomed over her. His hand slid over her ribs, glancing across her breast. Maggie froze. She was still frightened out of her wits, but the unexpectedly intimate touch sent a buzzing tingle ricocheting up her spine.

With all the control he’d shown, refusing to hurt her while she fought him, she wondered what he could do if those hands were put to a different sort of use on a woman. Caressing, comforting, rather than pinning her down.

Collier’s head tilted and his cold blue gaze roved over her in an open evaluation. “That stopped you quick enough.” He stroked up her side, fingers spanning halfway across her back. Her light corset wasn’t enough protection from the heat. She swallowed as best she could against the cloth sucking the moisture out of her mouth.

“Hmm. I’ll have to remember this.” He didn’t smile precisely, so much as his eyes warmed a fraction and his mouth loosened from the flat-lined frown.

His nose was a bit too long, and beneath it his lips could disappear into near-nothingness. But when he relaxed, they looked…almost soft. Smooth. Kissable.

Maggie jerked and scrambled her feet into the bed, trying to get away. Their fight had rattled her brain.

Collier yanked the extra lengths of rawhide out from under her ribs. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have these back.”

She dropped her head flat to the bed and stared at the plaster ceiling. All was not lost. Father’s health was already improving. If she could only find a way to delay the journey and her trial, he would have more time to get better.

And the best delay of all would be escape.

God only knew what he was going to do with Maggie Bullock.

He dug a knuckle across his brow bone, right above his eye, where tension had set up a right nice pounding.

Masterson had made it clear that he’d like Dean to bring Maggie back via train to Tucson. From there, it was less than a day to Fresh Springs on horseback. The man had provided a thick bankroll to pay for the expensive tickets. But Dean intended to pocket that money. Over the years, he’d learned to snag any extra cash he got a chance at. The third time a small-town sheriff had tried to skip payment, he’d known not to let it happen again. He took what money they put in his hand, and figured the rest would only be a bonus.

Besides, the open road gave him more chances to adapt.

It was one of the things that made him so dangerously good at his accidental career. If bringing his target in alive wasn’t working, he’d bring them in dead. No problem.

It didn’t seem likely Maggie would do him a favor and try to kill him.

Make his life miserable, now that she could do. Would do, if she had any choice in the matter.

She watched him quietly from the bed. Occasionally she’d whimper behind the gag and once or twice her whole body flinched. If she were frightened, so much the better. She deserved it for the hell she’d put him through, and certainly for the hell she’d inflict as they went back to Fresh Springs on horseback.

Even now, he could do with a few hours sleep, but he’d be damned if he’d take them lying next to her. He’d likely wake with her boot heels pressed into his windpipe.

Taking hold of her stocking-clad legs had taken a surprising amount of will. She was firm and sleek where his wife had been soft and plump. He never would have thought he’d like the difference, but the insidious lick of lust that tensed his body couldn’t be denied.

It could, however, be ignored.

Maggie coiled onto her side. Tear tracks stained her cheeks in a pale glimmer, barely visible in the waning light that streamed through the windows. Obviously upset, she looked smaller and more fragile than she had at their first, strange meeting. When her big brown eyes snapped at him over a mouth running a mile a minute, she’d seemed bigger. In all actuality, she was a fairly small woman, with delicate bones. Her shoulders and hips were both narrow, and her bosom barely swelled out her dress’s bodice.

Shock pounded through Dean as he realized she was about the same build as Annie had been. He hadn’t exactly been able to judge when she’d given her squirrel impression. Maggie’s sleekly muscled build gave an impression of power, but in terms of height and bones they were the same.

He dropped into the wooden chair in the corner and bounced it off the wall. He hadn’t thought about his wife in so long that she’d become as ephemeral as a ghost. He’d always esteemed Annie as tiny and delicate. He’d treated her with a careful concern that she’d said made her feel like a princess. Before he’d tossed her around as he had Maggie, Dean would have chopped off his own hands at the wrists.

Maggie was a hellcat, that was for damn sure. But she was still fragile. Breakable. He ground the base of his thumb against the sudden spike of pain in his temple. He’d have to exercise a level of care he wasn’t sure he was capable of anymore.

Dean shifted and spun his Stetson onto the dresser next to his book. His ma would have his head if she saw Maggie tied to the bed. Good thing she was hundreds of miles away.

The horseback route to Fresh Springs would take him closer to his family’s spread than he’d been in years, but that didn’t mean he had to stop in. A telegraph, like the ones he’d been sending on the first of every month to assure Ma of his wellbeing, would suffice.