Miracle Jones (3 page)

“That’s right.” Harrison was surprised to find himself suddenly on the same side as Jace Garrett.
But the mood of the others had turned ugly, and there was a sharp smell of lust in the air.

“Come on, come on,” one of the men muttered to Harrison, gesturing to his winnings.

Harrison raked in the pile of money.
He felt strangely lightheaded.
With a warped sense of justice, one of the other men prodded Garrett with the butt of his gun.
“What else are you givin’ him for winnin’?”

“I’ll pay him tomorrow.
I don’t have cash now,” Jace stated flatly.

“You’ll pay him now, or you won’t leave.”

Harrison glanced around the room, uneasy now at the dreamy edges to his vision.
None of the men who had showed Garrett respect was in sight.
They’d disappeared into the murky edges of the room or had left altogether.
Only strangers remained.
A cold sense of foreboding tightened Harrison’s gut.

Realizing too late what was happening, Harrison asked through his teeth, “Whad you put in the drink?”

No one answered.

Harrison glanced at Jace.
The way Garrett swayed and weaved on his feet said he’d received the same poison.
Grimly, Harrison realized they’d been fools to let themselves be talked into coming to the barn tonight.
Who had suggested it?
He couldn’t remember.
They’d been happily toasting the future at the Half Moon Saloon in Rock Springs and somehow had wound up at this private gambling party.
If they weren’t careful they could lose everything – maybe even their lives.

Harrison tried to think.
He had to get rid of the money.
They would leave him alone without the money.
“I’ll take the woman,” he said thickly.
“Las’ chance before the weddin’, you know.”

Jace glared at him through bleary eyes, shocked and furious.
“I’ll tell Kelsey.”

Stupid bastard,
Harrison thought.
He couldn’t even see what was happening.

Haggling was going on nearby.
The man who had tried to purchase the young innocent before was still trying to buy her.
He had plenty of stiff competition.
Money was piling up on an overturned crate, enough money to make even an honest man think twice.
Harrison scooped his winnings to his side of the table.

“I wan’er,” he muttered.
“Take it all.”

The man with the gruff voice grabbed for the money.
Harrison glanced into his eyes, trying to memorize his features.
He was dirty and stank to high heaven.
Harrison thought about telling him he was wasting his time trying to stuff the winnings into pockets shiny with grime.
The others wouldn’t let him get away with that much cash.
He would be beaten and robbed before he stepped two feet outside.

“Ya still owe money,” a voice said to Jace.

“Jace’ll match my winnings,” Harrison said with the drunken smile.
“Take ‘im to Rock Springs.
He’s good for it.
You can keep it all.”

“You goddamn filthy swine!” Jace spat viciously.

Harrison couldn’t tell Jace he’d probably just saved his miserable life.
The men currently pulling Jace roughly out of his chair would keep him alive until they had their money.
Then it was up to Jace to save his own neck.
Harrison had problems of his own.

“Take him to her,” Gruff Voice ordered one of the whores.
The man’s eyes were on Jace, his mind clearly on the funds still outside his grasp.
Harrison followed after a voluptuous woman whose bosom was pushed up from her bodice, threatening to spill over with each of her shallow breaths.

He’d lost a small fortune tonight.
Now he needed to save the girl and get them both out of here alive.
Damn it all, why couldn’t he think straight?
He needed his wits about him more than ever now.

¤   ¤   ¤

Miracle lay on her back atop rug-covered hay bales, staring up at the sloping barn ceiling.
Her hands were tied behind her back, her ankles lashed together.
Light from the lantern suspended on a wire above her head quivered over the narrow room.
A tiny crack near the main joist admitted several bats.
They hung from the rafters, emitted faint squeaks, then burst through the crack in a flutter of anxiety, only to slowly return again.

Curse and rot her miserable luck!
Her heart beat fast, as fast as the frightened bats’ wings.
Her head ached.
She didn’t remember being brought here, but she had to get out.
She could feel the knife still strapped to her thigh – thank God!
– so she was reasonably sure she hadn’t been physically abused.

She grimaced.
Since she was certain Bushy Eyebrows was dead, Gruff Voice must have somehow talked Jeb out of using her.
She shuddered to think what would’ve happened if he hadn’t.

Twisting onto her side, Miracle wriggled furiously against the binding ropes.
Her wrists were already chafed raw.
If only she could slip a hand free.
Her whole future depended upon it.

Lord, have I ever asked for much?
she prayed with more fervor than reverence.
Have I begged for your help?
Well, I’m begging now.
Get me out of here!

A roar of male laughter rose to the rafters.
Miracle flinched.
The group of men downstairs was drunken and loud.
She knew it was only a matter of time before someone remembered her.

Despair flooded her.
Was Uncle Horace all right?
Was he even alive?
The ruthless men who had abducted her were not above killing; she’d witnessed that with her own eyes.
She had to struggle free.
She had to!

Footsteps sounded on the ladder.
Miracle froze.
There were other rooms in the barn loft; she’d heard voices through the walls.
Praying these newcomers were headed elsewhere, she attacked the ropes with renewed vigor, but with a loud creak the locked door swung outward.

Miracle’s mouth went dry.

“An hour’s all ya paid for,” Jeb’s voice told the blond-headed man ducking inside.

“An hour?
That’s all?” the newcomer mumbled.
He weaved forward and stumbled on a bale, swearing at his own clumsiness.

“An hour!” Jeb bellowed after him.
Cursing, he slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

Miracle scooted backward until her shoulders scraped the rough barn wall.
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
She stared at the man, wide-eyed.

“Hullo,” he said.
“Name’s Harrison.
What’s yours?”

She didn’t answer.
If he was going to rape her, she wasn’t going to open her mouth until she could sink her teeth into his flesh.

He came toward her on unsteady legs, dropping onto his side beside her.
His familiar pose set her nerves screaming, but he said by way of apology, “Sorry.
Can’t seem to keep my head up.
We’re gonna have to work fast.”

His hand brushed her leg.
She stiffened and would have cried out had she not realized almost instantly that it was an accident.
The man – Mr.
Harrison – was truly drunk, she thought in disgust.
But maybe his inebriation could work to her advantage…

He shook his head, heard the bats, and squinted up at the rafters where they hung.
“Friends of yours?”

Some of Miracle’s fear faded away.
At least he wasn’t a slobbering lecher.
Neither was he full of evil, as Jeb was.
Her skin crawled just thinking about Jeb.
He’d killed Bushy Eyebrows without a qualm.
She was half-amazed Gruff Voice hadn’t shot him in retribution.
But thievery had strange rules, it seemed.
While Miracle had been unconscious, Jeb and Gruff Voice must have somehow mended their rift.
They’d apparently agreed to bring her here for their hundred dollars.

A hundred dollars for one hour.

Miracle’s blue eyes grew cold as a glacier at the thought.
This
man had paid a hundred dollars for a kidnapped woman!
She narrowed her gaze at the chiseled lines of his face, the faintly curving lips.
He was outrageously handsome, she thought inconsequentially, and for some reason it angered her all the more.
Though obviously not of the same ilk as Gruff Voice and Jeb, this man was still dangerous and cruel.
Oh, he was clean and handsome, with a thick patch of dark gold, sun-streaked hair that looked like burnished silk.
But he was no better than his counterparts.
Maybe even worse.
He was the buyer, wasn’t he?
Without him, the wretched highwaymen would never have been able to sell her.

He grunted, tried to sit up, then swore and fell back down, his face whitening.
Miracle’s attention was diverted.
“Are you in pain?” she asked before she could help herself.

“Damn shoulder.
Nearly had my right arm cut off once.” He turned to her, his face very close.
In the darkness she couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but they were clear and frank.
“So you do speak.”

She licked her lips.
“You’re drunk,” she accused witheringly.

“And then some, I’m afraid,” he admitted wryly.
“You may have to help me.
I’m not sure I’m going to be much good in this condition.
Come on, we’ve got to hurry.”

She was astounded by his arrogance.
He thought she would be eager and willing and
helpful!
“How much did you pay for me?” she demanded frostily.

He laughed.
“A small fortune.
Are you really as innocent as they claim?”

“Is that what you paid for?”

“Well – yes, I suppose so.”

“Then you’re about to be sorely disappointed, Mr.
Harrison,” she lied harshly.

“Am I?” He considered her carefully, and Miracle, to her consternation, could feel the color rise on her cheeks.
“My first name’s Harrison,” he corrected her.
“You haven’t told me yours.”

“You don’t need to know it.”

“I guess not.” He drew a breath and shook his head again, as if trying to clear his mind.
“But if you don’t give me a name I’ll call you Sally, just to keep things straight.”

“I’m Miracle,” she answered, goaded into answering him.

He propped himself up on one elbow, and Miracle could feel the heat of his breath fanning her face.
He smelled like whiskey and hay and a subtle, masculine odor that was peculiarly intoxicating.
“Miracle?
That’s your name?”

“Er – yes,” she stammered, alarmed at the way he was moving up next to her.
“I help people.”

“Help people?
How?” He put a hand to his head and sucked in a breath.
“Never mind.
Save it for later.
We’ve got to get going, Miracle, or my hour’ll be up.”

She narrowed her eyes.
If he moved much closer he would feel the knife at her thigh.
She had to get out of here and away from him.
“I could help that shoulder of yours,” she said quickly, when he reached a hand toward her to do God knew what.

His hand paused in midair.
He stared at her, amused.
“Maybe later.”

“Let me try.
If you could just untie my hands…”

“You’re tied?” The muscles of his face tightened.
“My God, that’s right.
You would be.” With a snort of anger, he suddenly wrapped his arms around her.
“Come here.”

Shocked, she held her breath, unable to move.
She lay like a slab of marble, cold and unforgiving and hard.
If he felt the knife, her one chance of escape would be ended.
Dimly, she realized he’d pulled out his own pocket knife and was sawing through her bindings.

Seconds later her fingers wriggled loose!

He stared down at her, and his expression changed to one of thoughtful appraisal, as if he’d just discovered something that surprised him.
His gaze slowly moved to her lips.
“One kiss for freeing you,” he said softly, then pressed his mouth against hers.

Miracle didn’t wait.
She ripped the knife from its trappings, her ears sensitive to the rasp of tearing cloth.
A corner of her mind registered the sweet taste of liquor on his lips and the amazing depth of his kiss.