The Loner (2 page)

"Because he's here and he can save us and probably earn a big reward for it. That's why!"

Logan Grey ignored the nervous murmurs and frightened whispers circulating behind him and concentrated on the matter at hand. Three gunmen. Seven potential hostages.

And he'd left his six-gun at the gunsmith's for repair.

Lucky, hell.

It was the same old story. Although he'd been known as Lucky Logan Grey for damn near his whole life, Logan knew that the only luck he truly possessed was bad luck. The trick to keeping it from rearing its ugly head was to keep folks thinking the opposite—that he
was
the luckiest man in Texas.

What a crock. Take this incident today. How lucky was it that he'd decided to put business before pleasure this morning? Choosing to look up the bank president and discuss his investment in a promising East Texas oil field before dropping by Ella Jameson's Sporting House to end his dry spell had put him in the middle of this mess. He'd been three weeks without a woman, and the lack of relief was making him twitchy. He could be heating up the sheets with Ella right now, but no. Logan had no sooner walked through the bank's front door when he sensed trouble. It was a talent of his, a gift that came in handy for a man chock-full of bad luck, so he paid close attention to it. This time, however, he'd been a few steps slow. He'd just turned around to exit the bank when all hell broke loose in the lobby.

Five minutes ago, three men stalked into the bank brandishing guns and shouting demands. They'd shot the security guard dead, then forced the head teller to lock the doors and display the lunch notice. After herding everyone but the head teller into a group on the left side of the room, they'd handed the banker a bag and told him to fill it with cash from the teller windows.

"Hurry up!" demanded the outlaw leader, a lanky, bearded fellow missing his front teeth. He vaguely reminded Logan of Colorado Clem, a mean-assed bastard who'd died a few years back after being shot in a dispute over a faro game. Logan wondered if Clem had a brother.

"You need to move faster, banker," warned the outlaw. "My trigger finger's gettin' itchy."

Behind the teller's cage, the manager stuffed money into a bag with shaking hands as a bead of sweat dribbled down his temple. The scent of blood tainted the air, and to Logan's right, a child began to cry.

Within moments, the cries rose to wails and the mother's attempts to soothe her child grew frantic when another gunman took a threatening step toward her, saying, "Shut him up or I'll do it for you."

Logan took advantage of the distraction to scan the room in search of a weapon, any weapon. The level of tension inside the bank had escalated. Things were fixin' to turn ugly. His gaze settled on a brass paperweight shaped like an eagle sitting atop a desk about five strides away. A good throw could take out one of the gunmen. Wasn't enough, though.

Dammit, he needed his gun.

He'd have to take a weapon away from one of the bandits. Which one? Not ole Gap Tooth, the leader. One of the others. Logan's gaze shifted between the other two thieves. He'd take the one by the door. He looked to be the most fidgety, probably the one who'd lose control and start shooting first.

"Here you are, sir," said the trembling head teller as he attempted to hand over the money bag.

"That ain't all," scoffed Gap Tooth. He leveled his gun at the banker's head. "Open the safe."

"But I don't know the combination! Only the president knows it, and he's at the rotary club meeting this morning."

See, that proved Logan's point. He'd made the stop here for nothing.
Lucky my ass.

The outlaw boss grabbed the manager by the necktie and said, "I reckon you'd better figure it out, then, huh?"

Logan sidled toward the twitchy outlaw. Judging by the look in the leader's eyes, Logan knew he needed to act fast. He took another surreptitious step toward his prey when a woman's voice broke the nervous silence saying, "Oh, darling, I'm so afraid!"

Then a female rushed toward him and burrowed her face against his chest.

What the hell?
Logan's arms reflexively wrapped around her and despite his surprise, he registered a number of facts in an instant. She was tall for a woman and not too young, maybe a couple years or so younger than he. Her breasts were full and soft. She smelled like lavender. Her hair was the color of a West Texas sunset, gold streaked with strands of red that glistened even in the muted light of the bank.

And her hands were fiddling with his belt.

In another reflexive reaction, his body stirred. Well, it
had
been three weeks.

Then something cold pressed the skin of his belly. Metal. Rounded.

A gun barrel.

Well now.
Logan stifled a smile. Things were looking up. Playing along, he replied, "Don't be afraid, my love. I'll protect you."

She nodded against his chest, then stepped back, leaving a gun stuck in the waist of his britches and concealed with the tail of his shirt, which she'd pulled free. He had a quick glimpse of violet eyes filled with courage and encouragement before trouble erupted back by the safe.

"That's all?" shouted Gap Tooth. "How can a goddamned bank have a damned near empty safe? What, is this place run by a bunch of outlaws?"

He took aim at the round globe of a lamp and pulled the trigger. Glass shattered. The child's screams resumed, and this time a couple of adults hollered along with him. "Shut up!" cried Gap Tooth. "Shut your trap or I'm gonna kill somebody."

Seeing the villain's gaze fix upon the crying child, Logan stepped forward and said the first thing that popped into his brain. "There's another safe."

Gap Tooth turned away from the child and pinned his black stare on Logan. "What?"

His mind raced as he concocted on the fly. He needed to separate the killer from that child, and fast. "It's hidden, but I know where it is."

"Who the hell are you?"

"A friend of Dair MacRae. I trust you've heard of the Bad Luck Treasure?"

Now he had the outlaw's undivided attention. The villain lowered his gun and took a step toward Logan. "All them jewels that was written up in the newspapers?"

"Jewels and gold, too. A fortune ten times over and it's right here in Haltorn Bank. You let these people go and I'll show you where it is."

Avarice shone in the villainous trio's faces. Fidgety said, "I've heard of that Bad Luck Treasure. Didn't know it's still in Fort Worth."

It's not.
Well, not the majority of it, anyway. Logan himself had helped transport a large chunk of it to more secure institutions in the East.

Skepticism dimmed the third gunman's expression. "How do we know that you're telling the truth?"

Logan tugged the gold medallion he wore around his neck over his head, then tossed it toward the leader, saying, "I helped my friends find the treasure, so they had this made for me in thanks."

The outlaw caught the gleaming medallion in a grimy hand. "Well damn my eyes. Look at those stones."

Logan braced his hands on his hips, keeping the gun handy. "There are lots more of those within relatively easy reach, but you'll never find them on your own."

Gap Tooth studied him with suspicion. "If you're that MacRae fella's friend, why would you up and volunteer to give away their treasure?"

Logan glanced at his fellow hostages on either side, his stare briefly meeting the violet-eyed woman's, before he said, "I'm offering to trade their treasure for the safety of these good people. My friends would never value money over lives."

The outlaw leader glanced at his partners. The third villain said, "You can't let anyone go, boss. We're all right so far because nobody outside has noticed there's trouble. The minute folks leave this building that'll change. The law will surround us."

"Which makes the secret tunnel leading away from the treasure vault all the more valuable," Logan observed, the lie spilling easily from his tongue.

"Tunnel?" Gap Tooth asked. "What tunnel?"

"The one Trace McBride had built to help protect the Bad Luck Treasure. He's an architect, you know. The man loves tunnels and secret passages. His home, Willow Hill, is full of them."

"I don't believe him," declared the third gunman. "A tunnel? That's a crazy thing to believe."

"I believe it." Fidgety scratched his chin. "I've heard talk about McBride. He's supposed to be pretty smart. A smart man would do everything possible to protect the Bad Luck Treasure. Wouldn't you think?" After a moment's pause for deliberation, he added, "I say we do it. The Bad Luck Treasure would make us all rich for life."

Obviously unconvinced, Gap Tooth scratched below his left ear. Then abruptly, he aimed his gun at a bystander. "Do you know about a tunnel?"

The man stuttered. "Um...no. Not...um...here." Then, perhaps seeing his chance of escape pass by, he added, "I do know that McBride likes to build secrets into his designs. His children played with mine, and I know his house has secret staircases and rooms. It makes sense to me that he'd build something secret to help protect his assets."

"Huh." Gap Tooth shifted his aim back toward Logan. "All right...what's your name?"

"Grey. Logan Grey."

"Wait a minute. I know you." The outlaw's eyes narrowed. "You're that range detective who works for the Waggoner Ranch out of Wichita Falls. The one they call Lucky. You kilt Two Dog Redmond. He owed me fifty dollars when he died, so I never got it."

Well, hell. His reputation struck again. "I'll make sure you get an extra emerald from the Treasure to make up for it."

Beady eyes narrowed even farther. "What sort of trick are you trying to pull? You're a range detective! A killer with a badge. This is a trap."

"No, it's not," Logan said with a shake of his head. That Killer-With-A-Badge label chapped his ass. He worked as a private lawman in places and at times where there weren't enough public badges to go around. Yeah, he'd killed his share of men, but only when arresting them wasn't an option. "I don't work for the Waggoner Ranch anymore. I'm just trying to get myself and these other folk out of here alive. I'm not on the job, mister. I have no legal authority. Frankly, it's no skin off my nose if you rob this bank, but I don't like seeing people hurt unnecessarily. Let these folks go, and I'll take you to the treasure."

The outlaw gave the medallion in his hand another long look. His boot tapped against the bank's green marble floor. "All right. Here's how we're gonna do it. First, you show me the escape route, then I'll let these good folk go."

Hmm. Not exactly what Logan had been hoping for, but at least it gave him a chance. Motioning toward the offices at the back of the building, he said, "It's this way."

"Wait," barked Gap Tooth. "You, there." He motioned with his gun toward the beauty who'd slipped Logan the weapon. "Pretty lady. C'mere."

"No, thank you," she politely said, smoothing her plain black traveling skirt.

The outlaw made a growling sound, then took three steps forward and grabbed her arm. He jerked her to him and put his gun to her head. He turned an evil smile toward Logan. "Make one wrong move and your lady pays."

Well, hell. Logan didn't doubt for a minute that ole Gap Tooth meant what he said.

His gaze swept over the female. Look at her with her chin lifted, her eyes flashing. Full of bravado. Couldn't help but admire a woman like that. "I won't make any wrong moves," he assured the outlaw.

Every move he made would be exactly right.

"Boys? Y'all keep everyone quiet here until I get back," Gap Tooth said to his cohorts. Then nodding toward Logan, he added, "Go on, then. Show me the tunnel."

As Logan walked toward the back of the bank, he mentally reviewed what he'd seen during his brief visit earlier. It was a damn shame this wasn't the bank where Dair and his wife located the Bad Luck Treasure. Trace McBride actually had constructed a hidden exit from the vault in the First National Bank of Fort Worth where a portion of the treasure remained. Logan could sure use a place like that at the moment to help trap this killer. Nevertheless, he was prepared to work with what he had.

Gap Tooth and the woman followed Logan out of the lobby into the office hallway. He'd take them to the president's office. On a previous visit he'd noted a large vent cover on the far interior wall. Unless a better idea occurred to him in the next thirty seconds, he'd try to lure Gap Tooth there and tell him it was the tunnel entrance. If he could get the outlaw to bend down, he could surprise him with an elbow to the chin followed by a gun to the gut. Once he had control of the situation, he'd force the bandit to—

Whoof. Thunk.
While Logan turned toward the sound, Gap Tooth dropped to the floor like a stone. "What the—"

"If I'd known you'd be so slow to save us I'd have kept the gun myself," the violet-eyed virago hissed as she grabbed the weapon from Gap Tooth's hand.

Logan gawked at the gunman now writhing on the floor in pain. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"He loosened his hold on me, so I pulled away and kicked him in the private parts."

Damn. Logan braced his hands on his hips and grinned.

On the floor, Gap Tooth let out a loud groan. She exhaled a snippy sigh, grabbed the handkerchief from Logan's jacket pocket, then knelt down and shoved it into the gunman's mouth to muffle the noise. Color stained her cheeks and frustration filled her eyes as she glared up at him. "Now, are you going to help me or do I have to do this alone?"

Good Lord, she was magnificent when in a snit. And she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. How handy was that? "What's your plan?"

"I don't have a plan. I thought you would develop one. You have much more experience at this sort of thing than I."

Logan used line cut from nearby window drapes to bind the would-be robber and secure the gag. "You know who I am?"

"Oh, yes."

"Have we met before?"

At that, she stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Logan got the impression that for a moment, she considered pointing the villain's gun at him. Instead, she drew herself up, squared her shoulders and said, "Let's save the hostages now, shall we?"