Audrey and the Maverick (2 page)

Julian leaned into Audrey. Her hat fell off, exposing her golden hair to the rain. Her pale eyes were huge, full of fear and lies. “In the last half hour, you’ve both robbed and protected me,” he growled, his mouth near hers. “If you want to play games, we’ll play—but by my rules.”

Her hands pushed against his arms, a puny resistance in the presence of his crushing need to do what he’d wanted to since he met her last year.

Kiss her.

His mouth took hers. His hat shielded her face from the rain. He breathed her scent, a strange mixture of rain and dust and roses. Her lips trembled. From the cold, perhaps. Or maybe he was the one shaking. He moved his mouth against hers, feeling her warmth, waiting for her lips to part and give him access to her soft secrets. His arm curled tighter around her, drawing her against himself. He cupped her head with his other hand, holding her in position for his invasion. She drew a ragged breath, opening for him. His tongue entered her mouth, rolling along the pointy ridges of her teeth, seeking her tongue. He was vaguely aware of her hands moving up his arms, to his shoulders, tightening around his neck.

Her tongue pushed and played against his. His cock shot to life. He moved a leg between hers, easily separating her pant-clad legs, pressing his thigh to the cradle of her hips. She sucked in a breath against his mouth even as her hips bucked him. He rubbed against her and when her thighs clamped his leg, he silently cursed. She was all woman, more responsive than he’d dared dream, but they couldn’t do this here, in the rain, in this alley where anyone could see them. He pulled back and stared at her. Her nose was pink, her cheeks flushed. They both breathed heavily under the brim of his hat.

Lightning flashed, followed almost instantly by a deafening clap of thunder. She pushed free and backed a few steps away, glaring at him while rain poured down her face, matting her hair to her cheeks and neck. He retrieved her hat and handed it to her. She pressed her lips together, her eyes condemning him as she gave a quick shake of her head; then she took the hat and turned away.

Julian watched her lope into the sheeting rain, quickly disappearing. He didn’t chase her. He couldn’t move. He sucked in a deep breath of cold air, forcing his body to simmer down. Unable to reconcile Audrey’s actions today with his memory of her, he let his mind slip back to the night they’d first met, almost a year ago. That same sweet scent she wore tonight had risen from her heated skin then as well in the warm summer air. She had boldly watched him throughout their waltz, her gaze stirring things in him. He’d stared into her strange, sage-green eyes and had somehow kept himself from acting on the promise in them—she was, he’d thought, a respectable young woman.

How wrong he’d been.

What mischief was she involved in here? How long had she been picking pockets? Had she thought he wouldn’t recognize her? Perhaps he hadn’t made as memorable an impression on her as she had on him. He sighed and watched the cloud of his breath dissipate into the rain. Likely he’d made an impression now. He’d have to hunt her down tomorrow and get to the bottom of this.

Wind lashed the rain against him as he moved out of the alley, slapping his coat against his calf. Up the street, the large Homestead Savings and Loans sign hung askew over the bank’s gaping doors, squeaking back and forth in the storm. Two saloons stood empty, one with rain pouring into its broken windows and missing door. Countless other businesses were boarded up. Most of the residences at the north end of town were abandoned.

What the hell had happened here? Just last year, Defiance had been a thriving outpost. Now it was all but a ghost town. A movement inside one of the empty buildings caught his attention. He frowned, trying to peer through the downpour, certain he’d seen a man inside. A surreptitious glance around the street revealed someone in the upper window of another abandoned building. Yet another stood on a corner in the shadows and protection of the covered boardwalk. The town was lousy with sentries.

Defiance was ready for Jace.

Julian crossed the street and stepped onto the boardwalk in front of Sam’s Saloon and Restaurant, the one remaining watering hole in town. He sent another look around the street, noting the men’s positions before he stepped inside. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it and his hat on a peg by the door, then took a seat at a table near the front. Sam’s was surprisingly busy, though most tables were filled with cards, not food.

The waiter came by, and Julian ordered the house special—the only meal being cooked that day. Fortunately, it was a thick sirloin and a baked potato. The man returned with the bottle of whiskey and a shot glass he’d ordered. Julian poured a full measure and downed it. Then, leaning back in his seat, he refilled his glass and glared at the amber liquid.

He’d wired Sheriff Kemp with a complaint when his fences had been cut and several of his sheep slaughtered out at Hell’s Gulch earlier this spring. When one of his supply wagons had been ambushed and his cook murdered, Julian had wired the deputy U.S. marshal in Cheyenne. Apparently the marshal had received several complaints from the stage line and its passengers about holdups in the area. With so many outposts like Defiance, too many for the government to deal with, Julian had been surprised when he received a response from the marshal letting him know they had hired a resource to clear the sheriff and his gang out of town.

He was even more surprised when that resource turned out to be his old friend, Jace Gage, a man who had made his living since the war as a vigilante for hire, earning himself the nickname “Avenger.”

Julian thought back a few years ago when he, Jace, and their friend Sager had fought bushwhackers along the Kansas-Missouri border. Even then, fresh off the farm, Jace had been a phenomenal sharpshooter.

Julian threw back the whiskey and studied the empty glass as two of the hoodlums he’d met in the alley came into Sam’s. “Paul” and “Hammer,” Audrey had called them. A couple of rougher-looking cowpunchers Julian had never seen.

Making a cut in the steak the waiter had just brought him, he observed them—not with his eyes, but with his senses in a game his grandfather taught him, a game he’d practiced since childhood. He drew their smell into his nostrils. He listened to the sound—the rhythm—of their footsteps. He heard their low, almost furtive, laughter. He felt their eyes on him, felt the tension in the room shift.

They went to the bar. Julian heard the barkeep slide a couple of full glasses their way. He took another bite of meat.

“Hey, Sam—don’t that sign out front say ‘No Injuns’?” The barkeep didn’t answer. The cowpoke narrowed his eyes.

“Sam, I’m talking to you.”

“Forget it, Paul. I just got my front window fixed from the last fellow you thought shouldn’t be in here.”

“Sam,” Hammer chimed in, “there’s a reason you put that sign up.”

“I didn’t put it up.”

“Don’t matter.” He shrugged. “You got a reputation to uphold. You can’t let just anyone come in and mix with upstandin’ folk.” He leaned over the bar. “It could get real expensive for you.”

“Hey, breed!” Paul turned to the man in question. “Didn’t you see that sign out front?”

Julian swallowed a grim smile with the meat he was chewing, waiting for the violence to come his way. He cut into his potato, ignoring the two at the bar.

“Think he’s deaf, Hammer? He wouldn’t be ignorin’ us, now, would he?”

“Maybe he don’t speak English. Maybe we should explain things to him,” Hammer suggested.

Paul swallowed the last of his beer and swaggered up on one side of Julian, Hammer on the other. “You talk English, breed?” Hammer leaned two hands on the other side of the table and bent close to Julian’s face.

Julian sat back in his seat and spread his hands out before him. “Gentlemen, I’d appreciate it if you’d back away from my supper. Your smell makes this fine steak taste rancid.”

Hammer gathered spit in his mouth and sent it splattering into the plate before him.

Julian’s bland expression never faltered, and seeing that, an edge entered Paul’s eyes. He looked Julian over, noticing his fine gray city suit, the crisp whiteness of his shirt. Paul grinned and swiped at some dust on Julian’s shoulder.

“He dresses fussy like a girl, Hammer. Think he likes petticoats too?”

“I like petticoats one hell of a lot more than I do the two of you!” Julian growled. His foot snaked out to his side and hooked around Paul’s ankle, jerking his leg out from beneath him.

Hammer reached for Julian’s throat, but the cowpuncher wasn’t fast enough. Julian wrapped his hand behind Hammer’s neck and shoved his face into the steak he had spit on. The blow shattered the plate. Hammer screamed, recoiling instantly with a hand over his bloodied, broken nose. Paul made as if to stand, but Julian jammed his elbow into his jaw, laying him out once more on the floor.

Julian rose out of his chair to meet three more men who crossed the room toward him, but before more blows could be exchanged, a burly man entered the saloon and stepped into the fray. He faced the three men.

“That’s enough.” He held up a hand. “This ain’t any way to welcome Mr. McCaid back to Defiance.”

The three newcomers moved away, eyes narrowed, bodies still tense. “Get these two outta here.” He waved irritably in the direction of Paul and Hammer. “They’re stinking things up.”

Sheriff Kemp turned to face him. “I’m sorry, Mr. McCaid—”

Julian extended his hand to the local dignitary. “Forget it, Sheriff.”

“I’d heard you were back in town, but I hoped it wasn’t true. Seems there’s always a mess to clean up when you’re around.”

Julian grinned. “I got a feeling that’s only beginning.”

The sheriff leveled a hard look on him. “I don’t want you stirring up trouble. There’s enough to deal with in this town as it is.”

“That’s a true statement, what with the Avenger on his way. You’ve riled some powerful people, Sheriff.”

Kemp’s face went still. A hush fell over the room. “What do you know about the Avenger, McCaid?”

“I know he leaves few men standing—few criminals, that is. If I were you, I’d close up shop and search out a more hospitable place to run your little gang.”

Kemp shook his head. “Can’t oblige you there. I got a fondness for Defiance. Besides, the Avenger’s just one man. I got two dozen and more on the way.”

Julian met his look. “That a fact? Then while we’re drawing battle lines, Sheriff, you best tell your men anyone visiting Hell’s Gulch without the decency to use the front drive will be shot on sight as a trespasser.”

The sheriff’s mouth thinned slightly. “You ain’t very smart, are you, boy? Settin’ yourself up against me.”

“I guess that will be decided by whichever of us survives. You should know the odds are in my favor.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. He made a sucking noise out of the side of his mouth, then nodded. “Sam!” he barked, his narrowed eyes still on Julian. “Give Mr. McCaid here another steak. His has gotten cold.” He touched the edge of his hat, then slammed out of the saloon.

As sudden as its onset, the chaos was over. Julian rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension lodged there. He looked at Sam standing behind the bar.

The barkeep grinned and held his hand out to Julian. “Glad you’re back, Mr. McCaid.”

Audrey stepped into the road early the next morning. Her boots caught in the mud as she crossed the street between two blocks. She’d spent another sleepless night, worrying about what the day would bring. She could no more outrun what was coming than she could a tornado. Her best option was to keep busy until it hit.

She’d just finished delivering yesterday’s laundry to the last of her remaining clients. The sun was still low enough that shadows from the buildings stretched the width of the road. In a couple of hours, the air would be dry and hot, soaking up the moisture from last night’s rain. The roads would crack, and dust would once again blow through Defiance.

Her month with McCaid would have started by then.

She passed the alleyway where he’d cornered her yesterday, manhandling her as if she were one of Sam’s girls. Her eyes fixed on the wall where he’d pinned her, her pace slowed and blood warmed her face as she remembered the feel of his body pressed against hers, the way his mouth moved over hers.

She forced herself to look away and encountered the devil himself. A peculiar weakness stole through her limbs as she met his dark-eyed gaze. What was he doing up and about so early? Good heavens, now what? She wasn’t ready! Not yet! Should she brave it out or run? But where was there to run in this stupid town?

She climbed the steps, feeling as if she were walking into the jaws of a prowling mountain lion. “Mr. McCaid,” she greeted him with icy reserve.

“Miss Sheridan.” He nodded at her.

She passed him, her stride purposeful. He fell into step behind her. She quickened her pace, as did he. Cool fingers of dread swept down her spine, warning her, hurrying her along.

She neared Jim’s place and slipped down the alley on this side of the store. Dropping her empty laundry basket, she lifted her skirts and ran. If she could just make it to the back of the building, she could lose him. Her boots crunched in the gravel. Her heart was pounding with the beat of a war drum. The prickly weeds growing between the buildings grabbed at her skirt and scraped her legs.

Still he was gaining on her.

She reached the far corner of the building just as McCaid’s black-clad arm snatched her about the waist and reeled her back against him. She breathed in harsh, rasping gasps, but he was barely winded—she’d never had a chance of eluding him.

He bent and whispered in her ear, “Why did you run?”

Shivers of warning rippled through her flesh. “Why did you chase me?”

“You have something of mine.”

Audrey tried to hold herself erect, but his arms were crossed over hers, immobilizing her. “I told you last night—I have nothing of yours. Let me go.”

His arms curled tighter about her, his hold viselike. She was unable to keep the fear from her voice. “Let me go!” she demanded. She wiggled and writhed, but to no avail. If his grip tightened any farther, she would not be able to breathe. She stomped on his boot, but other than winning a grunt from him, her struggles had no effect. “I don’t want this!”

Julian looked down and realized she was gripping his arm as tightly as he held her. “Don’t want what?” He felt a splash of warm liquid on his hand. “What is it that you don’t want?”

Jim came around the corner, his storekeeper’s apron blazing white in the shadowy alleyway. “Audrey! McCaid!” His gaze swept over them. Audrey stiffened in his arms. “What’s going on here?” Jim shouted at them.

Julian felt like a boy caught with a mouthful of cookie before supper, standing as he was with his arms wrapped around Audrey’s lush, sweet-smelling body. “Answer him, Miss Sheridan.”

“Let me go.”

“No. You run like a goddamned rabbit. Tell Jim what’s going on.” He felt the breath she drew as she straightened in his arms. She dashed the moisture from her face with the tips of her fingers.

“This sheep keeper thinks I stole money from him.”

“You did steal my money. I watched you take it.”

“Let her go, McCaid.” Jim’s voice was less confrontational, modulated by what sounded like regret. Or disappointment. “How much did she take? I will pay you back.”

“No, you won’t, Jim! If he thinks I took it, let him take me to the sheriff. Don’t get involved,” Audrey warned.

“Twenty dollars,” Julian answered, though his mind had snagged on the fact that the sheriff had entered the equation.

Audrey gasped, flashing an angry look up at him. “There was only ten dollars!”

He grinned. “So you admit to taking it.”

“No.”

He studied her. Her mouth and her eyes lied, pleading an innocence that conflicted with the truth, an innocence that was long gone. Instinct whispered this situation wasn’t as simple as it seemed, but the feel of her slim body in his arms and her curvy backside against his thighs deafened him to its warning.

He turned her to face him. She was as beautiful as he remembered, medium in height, lithe and willowy. Her eyes were still a haunting green, pale like wild sage, wrapped in mystery by the fringe of her thick, dusky eyelashes. Her face was smooth and cream-colored. Little freckles speckled her nose and cheeks. Twin indentations in her cheeks hinted at dimples that would appear when she smiled, which she wasn’t doing now.

Why was she so eager to get the sheriff involved? He’d not be the one to dispense justice. Perhaps she and Kemp were in this together. Julian was curious to see how the two of them got along. “Let’s go visit the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll unravel this mess.”

Julian guided Audrey out of the alley and back into the street. The storekeeper stayed close on their heels. Julian looked at Audrey as they walked. Her golden brown hair hung in waves off to one side in a collapsed bun, yet she moved beside him with calm resignation like a goddamned queen heading for the chopping block. No remorse. No shame. No hint she regretted stealing from him.

What had he expected? With few exceptions, the remaining townsfolk of Defiance had to be as rotten and corrupt as their sheriff.

As if aware of his perusal, she looked up at him. He stared into her odd, pale eyes, trying to find what it was about her that so unsettled him. She lowered her gaze and faced forward again. Julian, too, looked ahead, closing his mind to the sweep of her dark lashes and the creamy smoothness of her skin. She made him feel as if she, not he, were the victim of this crime.

A lanky yellow sign blew in the morning breeze, marking a low, two-story building as the sheriff’s office. He tightened his hold on Audrey as the storekeeper opened the door. Julian exchanged a look with the older fellow, wondering what the man’s connection to her was—why was he so willing to concern himself with her business? And why was she so comfortable letting him?

He ducked as he crossed the low threshold into the dark space of the sheriff’s office. The smell of sweat and unemptied spittoons was cloying in the small room. A deputy dozed in a chair, his boots propped on the desk, his chin against his chest. The storekeeper closed the door with a loud bang. The deputy lurched to his feet, then crouched as he faced the door to the cells, his gun at the ready. Julian cleared his throat.

The deputy spun around and leveled his gun on them.

Jim sighed. “Put it away, Fred, an’ get the sheriff.”

“Sure. What’s goin’ on, Jim?” The deputy’s gaze moved to Julian, then crawled over Audrey.

“Just get the sheriff.”

A moment later, Sheriff Kemp came down the hallway, hitching up his pants. He set his hands on his hips and glared at the three of them. “A little early for so much commotion, don’t you think?”

“Morning, Kemp. I guess that’s what happens when thieves run rampant in your streets. This girl stole ten dollars from me yesterday. I’d like to press charges.”

“Miss Sheridan? Stole from you?” He looked from Julian to Audrey, one brow arched. “Ten dollars, you say?” He glanced at Julian. His face showed amusement, but his eyes were angry. “You seem to be runnin’ into one trouble after another in this town. It pains me to see that, friend.” He sighed. “And, Audrey, reckon you can figure how bad you’ve disappointed me. How many times have I told you where your behavior was leadin’ you? I’ve warned you and worried about you, and now my patience is at an end.”

He picked up a large ring of jail keys from the desk behind him. “Let’s go, girl. After a week in here with me,” he said to Julian, “I doubt she’ll steal from you again. She’ll learn a lesson about being trustworthy, about paying for her actions.”

Watching the proceedings, Julian had a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew, perhaps better than most, everyone must face the consequences of his—or her—actions. But he didn’t care for the way Kemp or his deputy eyed Audrey, or the fact that she had moved fractionally closer to him.

“Don’t do this, Sheriff,” Jim spoke up. “Don’t do this to her.”

“I don’t think you got a say in the running of this town, Jim.” He gave Audrey a penetrating stare as he came forward to get her, and Julian found himself pulling her against his side.

“Forget it,” he said.

“What?” Jim and Kemp both blurted.

Julian exchanged a look with Jim over Audrey’s head. He didn’t like this. The whole damned thing felt like a setup, and even knowing that, he just kept going in. “Forget the whole thing. I’ve changed my mind.” He could feel the rope settling around his neck—this was going to come back to haunt him. “I won’t press charges if Miss Sheridan agrees to work off the money she took from me.”

She closed her eyes, then released a little huff of breath and looked at him with wary eyes. “How?”

Her voice was a whisper, nothing more. It put him in mind of other whispers, secret ones between lovers. His body tightened. He looked into her eyes, studying her. Clearly, she’d gone bad. Perhaps she’d always been bad; growing up in a town like Defiance would leave its mark on anyone. Nonetheless, he couldn’t just hand her over to the sheriff. Tough though she was, she would never survive the bastard.

He steeled himself to his body’s reaction, forcing himself to remember she, at some level, was friendly with his friends the Taggerts and wasn’t open to a dalliance. “We’re in need of a cook out at Hell’s Gulch. I’d rather not bring a woman out to the camp, but I will if it lets you repay your debt to me—for a couple of weeks.”

He didn’t even ask her if she could cook. He didn’t want to know. It was the only solution he could find. And no matter what her culinary skill was, it couldn’t be worse than the poison the current cook served. Plus, it would get her out of the sphere of Kemp’s influence and give Julian time to figure out what to do with her.

“Nope.” The sheriff shook his head. “That ain’t right. She stole a half month’s wages. She should have to work it off for twice the time it would take to earn it. A month.” He looked at Audrey. “At least.”

Jim frowned. “You can’t do that, Audrey. You can’t go out there.”

“I have no choice.”

Jim sent Julian and the sheriff a pained look. He took Audrey aside and spoke to her in hushed tones. “Don’t do this. Refuse. How can you leave? You’re needed here.”

“I don’t want to stay with the sheriff,” she said through clenched teeth. “Malcolm is almost eighteen. He’s old enough to deal with things. He’ll do okay.”

Who was Malcolm? And deal with what things? Julian wondered. Their voices lowered a fraction, making it impossible for him to hear them. Audrey looked at him, then at the sheriff. Julian followed her gaze, his mood darkening to see the sheriff gloating like a ravenous dog with his paw on a new kill. No way in hell was he leaving her here.

“I accept, Mr. McCaid, but there is a condition,” she said as they rejoined the group.

“And it is—?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but I have a little girl. She would have to come with me.”

Julian was taken aback. He’d completely forgotten about her little girl. And it confirmed his new belief that she’d lost her innocence a long time ago. He nodded his acceptance of her terms, then looked at the sheriff, wondering at his part in this skit. What did he gain by having Audrey at Hell’s Gulch?

Jim and Audrey were heading outside, and Julian followed them. He wondered what the obligations were that kept her in town. Children? A husband? Maybe a lover? Maybe Jim was her lover. He certainly seemed protective of her. Was this little girl of hers their daughter?

“You have a day to prepare yourself, Miss Sheridan. I will be at your house tomorrow at dawn. Then we’ll head out.”

Audrey went straight to the general store. Jim followed her, but neither of them spoke. Since she was leaving town and wasn’t sure if she would be able to return before the next month was up, she had better stock her pantry. Sally, Jim’s wife, came to the door of the back storeroom and paused, studying her. Audrey tried to keep her face blank, but the older woman began wringing her hands as she hurried around the counter toward her.

“Oh, good Lord. You did it. You did it, didn’t you?”

“I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Audrey Sheridan. You go to Mr. McCaid. You tell him, warn him. He’ll help you. He’s a good man.”

Audrey looked away from Sally, studying the shadowy patterns of the tin ceiling. She had no doubt about McCaid’s moral rectitude; it was her own that was in question. The sheriff had left her no options. She knew he would make good on his threats against her family. He’d killed many a man—taking a child’s life would be nothing to him. Besides, the less McCaid knew, the safer he would be.

The safer they would all be.

“I’m not going to say anything to him. And you and Jim need to keep silent too. Kemp will turn on you. You’ve seen his men. They are all over town, watching us. He’s into something bad, and we’re all in his way.”

“Mr. McCaid’s no fool. He’ll know you’re no Jezebel,” Sally persisted.

Audrey straightened her back. She couldn’t ask these people for help. To do so would just give the sheriff more fuel. “Then I will just have to convince him otherwise.” Picking his pocket had to be a good start.

Sally shook her head and turned to her husband. “Jim—”

“Fetch her groceries, Sally,” Jim quietly ordered, stopping her complaint.

Sally didn’t immediately comply. She smoothed her apron, the corners of her mouth turned downward as she fought to suppress more comments. Drawing a deep breath, she composed herself enough to fill Audrey’s order and pack it into a brown-wrapped package.