Taken by the Cowboy (9 page)

She watched him ride up
to the house and dismount, then take Mr. Maxwell’s front steps, two
at a time, to the top. A quick second later, rapid knocks sounded
at the door. Jessica’s heart began to race. Something was
definitely wrong.

Before she had a chance
to put on her shoes, the screen door swung open and Wade barged in.
“Anyone here?”

Jessica called out to
him. “I’m upstairs!”

His heavy boots pounded
up the stairs, and suddenly there he was, filling her bedroom
doorway with his striking, black-clad form. He halted when he
caught sight of her, as if he'd just walked in on a naked lady.

"Whatever it is, I
didn't do it," she said, as she struggled to calm her raging
pulse.

Wade glanced at the
brass bed. He went speechless for a second, as if he realized, only
then, the impropriety of where he was—but he recovered quickly, and
his eyes caught hers.

Boldly, he strode into
the room.

"What’s happening?" she
asked.

“You can't stay
here."

"Why not?"

Tension simmered behind
those compelling blue eyes. "Because you're going to need some
protection.”

Without another word of
explanation, he led her toward the stairs.

"Tell me what’s
happened,” she said. “I need to know."

They descended the
stairs together, and when they reached the ground floor, he moved
to the parlor window and peered out onto the street. "Someone wants
you dead."

The words reverberated
off the walls before they finally settled into her consciousness.
"Who? What are you talking about?"

"That outlaw you gunned
down had some friends,” he explained, “and they decided to pay a
visit to Dodge."

She shook her head,
refusing to accept what he was suggesting. "Maybe they just came to
pay their respects. Lou’s funeral is tomorrow."

"Men like them don't
have much respect for anything,” Wade argued. “You're the reason
they're here. I’ll put money on it."

She moved closer. "You
mean they want revenge?"

"That would be my
guess."

A terrible dread
exploded in her belly. She sank down onto a chair and cupped her
forehead in a hand. “
God, if you’re listening—this isn’t funny.
Please get me out of here.”

Sheriff Wade frowned at
her. “Where exactly would you like Him to send you?”

She looked up and found
herself staring at that shiny star again. "I have to tell you
something,” she said. “I didn't kill Lou. Honest. Someone else
did."

He shook his head.
"That ain't gonna work, Junebug. You can't go changing your story
now."

"But I'm telling the
truth!"

He paused for a moment,
then looked out the window again. "We don’t have time to argue
about it. We have to go." He made a move toward the door, but
Jessica remained seated.

"If we tell them I
didn’t do it—"

"Nobody's going to
believe that,” he told her. “Lou's death was worth five hundred
dollars. You trying to tell me somebody else killed him and didn't
bother to collect the reward?"

"Yes! I don't know why,
but that's what happened. I didn't kill him."

Wade studied her
warily, and she wondered if he’d ever believe
anything
she
said.

"We don’t have time for
this,” he replied at last. “We have to get you out of here."

"But where will I go?
They'll find me."

He strode closer and
held out his hand, gesturing strongly that she accept it. "I'll see
that they don't."

"But what makes you so
sure you can keep me safe? There's only one of you."

He stared at her
intently, then knelt down and took both her hands in his.

"I promise I won’t let
anything happen to you, but you have to come with me now.”

He was so close, she
could smell his clean, outdoorsy scent, and those hands—those
killer hands—were so warm upon hers.

“Okay.”

She was always such a
sucker for a man who asked nicely.

Something faintly
reassuring sparked in his eyes as he rose to his full height, and
Jessica felt a sudden charge of connection, an inexplicable bond
between them.

“Do you need to pack
anything?” he asked. “You may not be back here for a while."

"How long is a
while?"

"Hard to say."

She looked down at her
dress. "I don't really own anything else, other than my jeans and
jacket. I was going to buy another dress when I got the reward
money."

He inclined his head,
as if confounded by her reply, then started for the door. "Let's
go, then."

"But wait. I should
leave a note for Angus."

She ran up the stairs
and pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk.

After tacking the
explanation of her whereabouts to his bedroom door, she took one
hurried look around her room, then headed for the stairs. She
stopped dead at the top, however, when Sheriff Wade shouted up at
her.

"Jessica! Stay where
you are!"

“Why?”

"There's a rider
coming, and he’s got a gun."

Jessica hurried back
into her room, slammed the door shut and locked it. She dashed to
the window. Outside, a man on a brown horse reached into his
saddlebag, withdrew something that looked like a baseball, and
pitched it. Glass smashed in the other bedroom. Jessica ducked down
and hit the floor, afraid the rider might see her and fire a
shot.

A frantic moment later,
she heard him gallop away. The blinding terror of the hoof beats
faded into the distance.

Barely able to breathe
over the crazy velocity of her heart, Jessica got to her feet and
sank into the wing-backed chair, resting her hand on her heaving
chest, listening numbly to Sheriff Wade’s boots tapping up the
stairs.

"Jessica!" The knob
turned and the door rattled. "Open up. It’s me. He’s gone."

She rushed to let him
in. "He had a gun."

"I know." Wade pulled
her into his arms and held her. “You all right?”

Resting her cheek on
his chest, Jessica listened to the heavy rhythm of his heart. His
hand cupped the nape of her neck, and she slid her arms around his
waist.

“I thought he was going
to come in here and shoot me,” she said.

He rubbed his chin over
the top of her head. “I won’t let that happen.”

Suddenly conscious of
the emotion rising up within her, she drew back slightly, gripped
his coat lapels in her fists, and looked up at him with parted
lips. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it very badly.

He frowned—as if he
were angry that she had lured him, against his will, into holding
her like this and caring about her safety.

She opened her mouth to
say something, but he gently pushed her away before she had a
chance to speak.

"I heard a window
break," he said.

She pointed. "The other
room."

He took her by the hand
and led her down the hall to Angus’s room.

Sharp slivers of broken
glass covered the floor. Sheriff Wade stepped carefully across the
braided rug, while Jessica waited in the doorway, still shaken by
her fear and the unexpected intimacy they’d just shared.

Crouching down on his
hands and knees, he reached under the bed and pulled out a large
stone with a note tied around it. He read the note, then frowned at
Jessica.

“What does it say?” she
asked.

Without a word of
explanation, he handed her the note as he passed by her on his way
out of the room.

She stood in the
doorway, reading it with eyes that refused to stay focused.

HAND IT OVER OR
DIE.

"Sheriff Wade!" She
quickly followed him down the stairs. "Where are you going?"

He was already halfway
out the door. "I should be strung up and left to rot.”

“Why?” She followed him
out onto the porch.

"You just lied to me
again, didn’t you?” he asked as he untied the leather reins from
the bottom post. “About not shooting Lou."

"No!" she insisted,
feeling the sting of his words more than she cared to admit. "I
don't know what this note means. You have to believe me."

He looked up. "Think
hard. They want something you have. What is it?"

She was more confused
now than she had been the night she arrived. "I don't know! Maybe
the reward money? Maybe
they
killed Lou."

He bowed his head so
that she couldn’t see his face under the brim of his hat. "I don’t
know when to believe you, and when not to. It feels like you’re
always hiding something."

She knew she couldn’t
continue to lie to him, because it was pointless. He could see
right through her.

“Okay,” she admitted at
last. “I am keeping something from you, but it’s not what you
think.”

His shoulders lifted
noticeably.

“But I can’t tell you
what it is,” she added, picking up her skirts to move down the
steps.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d never
believe it anyway. All I can say is that my secret has nothing to
do with Lou. Honestly, I didn't shoot him." She approached Wade and
laid her hand on his arm, hoping to keep him from riding away from
her when at that moment she needed him more than ever.

"Why'd you say you did,
if you didn’t?"

"Because I wanted to
get out of jail,” she explained. “Angus said it was the simplest
thing to do."

Sheriff Wade removed
his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. "Either way, you
lied to me, and it’s not so easy to trust you now."

"Please trust me,” she
pleaded, “at least about this. I didn't kill Lou or anyone else for
that matter. I swear it on my life."

He stared at her a
moment while he considered it. "I know this much at least. Lou’s
gang didn't shoot him."

"How can you be
sure?"

"Because these guys
have a keen appreciation for easy money. They would've come forward
for the reward, and everyone knows you don’t have it yet."

"But they're outlaws,
aren't they? Maybe they didn't want to get arrested."

He shook his head.
"They're not wanted for anything at the moment. The governor gave
them a pardon for trading information about Lou a while back."

She regarded him
keenly. "So they were his enemies… Doesn't that give them a motive,
and make them suspects?"

“Maybe, but it still
doesn’t explain why they didn’t come forward for the money right
away if they were the ones who shot him. Besides, they only rode
into town this afternoon.” He took the note she still held in her
hand and read it again. His eyes lifted. They glimmered darkly with
resolve. "I won't help you unless you tell me the truth. What is it
they want from you? Whatever it is, I reckon it's mighty
important."

She shrugged
helplessly. "I already told you everything I know. I didn’t kill
Lou, and I have no idea what they’re after."

He looked away toward
the stockyards as if sorting through everything in his mind. Then
at last he faced her.

"All right,” he said.
“I’ll help you, but to do that, I have to take you away from
here."

She breathed deeply
with relief as he placed a booted foot in the stirrup and hoisted
himself up into the saddle.

“You coming?” He held
his hand down to her.

Jessica took an uneasy
step back. "Uh, I’ve never been on a horse before.”

Looking more than a
little surprised, he leaned forward and crossed his wrists over the
saddle horn. "Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?”

She shook her head.

He studied her for a
moment, then leaned back. “Well, the way I see it, you can either
get up here and ride with me, or you can wait for that plug-ugly
border ruffian to come back." He thumbed his hat back off his
forehead as he scanned the horizon. "I sure as hell ain't waitin'
around."

Jessica shifted her
weight from one foot to the other, while her stomach rolled with
anxiety. “What’s his name?”

“Thunder.” Wade stroked
and patted the horse’s neck. “He’s as steady as they come.”

She let her gaze roam
over Thunder’s muscular neck and strong legs.

Finally, with no choice
but to surrender to her fate, she offered her hand, and Truman
pulled her up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and
squeezed her eyes shut.

“Relax and hold on to
me,” Wade said, as he clicked his tongue to urge Thunder into a
slow canter.

They crossed a few back
streets, and Jessica slowly adjusted to the rhythm of the horse’s
gait. It was nerve-racking at first, but she soon caught on, opened
her eyes, and marveled at the impossible circumstances of her life.
Here she was, riding across a prairie town on the back of a horse,
to escape a gang of outlaws in the Wild West.

Not to mention the fact
that her arms were wrapped around a gorgeous gunslinger’s waist,
and she could feel the firm bands of muscle at his torso where her
forearm was resting on his revolver, and she was overwhelmingly
aware of his appealing strength and masculinity.

He was unlike any man
she had ever met. He wasn’t addicted to texting or Tweeting, and he
would never brag about the label on his suits or care about a spot
on the leather interior of his luxury car.

Truman Wade had more
important things on his mind. Like preventing violence.

And he smelled so…

Outdoorsy
.

She fought to distract
herself from the intoxicating aroma of his rugged appeal, to focus
on more critical matters.

“Where are we going?"
she asked.

"Back to the
jailhouse."

Jessica lifted her chin
off his shoulder. "But isn’t that right in the middle of town? Are
you sure that’s wise?"

"Leave the decisions to
me, Junebug. I know what I’m doing.”