TheSurrenderofLacyMorgan (19 page)

If she was smart, she’d throw on her clothes, sneak out the
window and ride out of town as fast as that paint could carry her. Maybe this
time she could hide out in a big city—Denver or St. Louis—somewhere Quinn and
Dakota would have more trouble finding her.

No. Stupid idea. In the short time she’d known the pair,
she’d learned just how determined they were. They’d track her to hell if need
be to bring the marshal’s killers to justice, including her.

Why shouldn’t they? She was as guilty as the men who pulled
the trigger. In truth, maybe more responsible for the man’s death than anyone.
Hadn’t she known since the moment she’d realized Santos had used her to lure
the man to his death that she’d have to pay for trusting Devil’s chief
henchman?

Santos. Slimy bastard.

And didn’t she deserve a little justice too? Justice for how
Devil treated Mama? Justice for Mama’s death? Justice for her own lost
innocence?

She hated Devil Morgan and Santos. She’d give anything to
watch them hang for all their crimes. There was no doubt Quinn meant to turn
her over to the territorial judge if she survived Devil’s camp once more.

Why should she be the only one to pay?

The door to the adjacent room opened. Quinn stood in the
doorway.

“Planning on sitting there in that quilt all night?” A slow
grin spread over his face. “Although the idea of having you sit naked across
the table does have its merits, I’m pretty sure the café down the street won’t
let you eat if that’s all you plan to wear.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she held his
gaze. This man might be her jailer, but there was a strength in him that spoke
to her. Not just because he’d saved her or had taken control of her body’s lust.
No, he was the kind of hero she’d always wanted. She trusted him and Dakota.

“If I help you, you’ll make sure Devil and his men pay for
the robberies and murders?”

His body tensed and his face grew serious. “Believe me,
they’ll pay. One way or another.”

“No matter what happens to me, you promise?”

From across the room he pinned her with his intense blue
gaze, strength and determination there for her to read. “Darlin’, you have my
word.”

A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard, blinking
back the tears stinging her eyes. “Then I’ll help you get into the camp.”

“Gonna get dressed first?” The grin played around the
corners of his lips again.

This time she returned it with a smile. “A gentleman would
leave me to do so in private.”

“I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“I’m no gentleman.”

“You are the closest I’ve ever come to meeting one.”

For a moment he studied her as if he wanted to say something
more, but finally decided not to. With a nod, he stepped back into the other
room. “Knock when you’re ready,” he said and closed the door behind him.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes passed before Quinn felt the need to pace the
room.

What the hell was taking her so long?

“She’ll be ready when she’s ready,” Dakota said, slowly
running his knife blade over a soapstone.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That your pacing won’t make her move any faster.”

“It’ll make me feel better.”

“She’s not throwing on a shirt and britches. Might as well
take a seat,” Dakota said in the irritatingly patient way that always made
Quinn want to punch something.

“Who the hell made you an expert on women?” Even as he asked
it, he knew his brother was right. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms
over his chest, legs spread wide.

They might have Lacy’s cooperation to get inside Devil’s camp,
distract him long enough for them to capture him and get them all out of there
in one piece, but something ate at him even as he knew the plan was a sound
one. He’d wanted more time to teach her to trust in them and obey him no matter
what he asked—and she was going to hate what he’d ask of her—but Dakota
encountering that man in town had moved their timeline up. They needed to leave
soon.

What if it hadn’t been enough time?

The vision of fear and resolution on her face as she asked
him if he’d see that Devil and his men got justice no matter what happened to
her filled his mind. She’d made up her mind. She’d put her trust in him, he’d
read it there, no question.

A moment later the door opened.

The air in his chest whooshed out.

A tall, slim goddess wrapped in green silk, the color
accenting her slightly golden skin, stood in the doorway. The lace collar
remained unbuttoned, revealing her gold collar necklace beneath. The silk
hugged her breasts, nipped in at her tiny waist and fell over her hips. She’d pulled
her hair up into one of those fancy buns women seemed to know how to do, a few
loose curls caressing her face.

A lady of the first order any man would be proud to escort
out for an evening on the town.

Lucky him.

Her smile wavered and her eyes grew worried. “Is there
something wrong?”

“No…uh, no, you look beautiful, darlin’.” Realizing his
staring was making her nervous, he swallowed hard and stood.

Dakota slipped his knife back into the sheath strapped to
his boot. “Pet, you are truly a vision.”

Mine.

Quinn narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Don’t you have
something to do right now?”

“You mean besides telling our lovely companion how honored
we’d be to have her accompany us to dinner?”

“God, you sound just like Ian.” Quinn resisted the urge to
grab Lacy by the arm and drag her away from his brother.

What was wrong with him? He’d never been possessive of a
woman, had shared fairly with Dakota. But seeing him flirt with Lacy was
setting his teeth on edge and making his blood run hot.

Dakota laughed, then grabbed his long coat and rifle. “I’ll
wait for you down in the lobby.”

The door clicked closed behind him.

Silence hung in the air between Quinn and Lacy.

He slid his gaze over her from head to toe, then back up
again, watching the color rise in her face as he did so. As if approaching a
wild animal, he slowly moved toward her.

“Where did Dakota have to go?” A slight tremor shook in
Lacy’s voice.

Nerves or excitement?

“He’s just making sure no bounty hunters are downstairs
waiting to ambush us.”

“Bounty hunters?”

“The territorial judge put a price on the bank robbers’
heads for the robberies and murders.”

“Including me?”

He stroked his knuckles across her cheek. “Yes, but you’ll
be safe with Dakota and me. No legitimate bounty hunter will try to take you from
us.”

“Legitimate bounty hunters. Are there illegitimate ones?”

She swallowed nervously, making the gold chains glitter in
the lamplight.

He reached for the lowest unbuttoned button on the dress
bodice, letting his fingers graze her warm, soft skin. For a moment he indulged
himself and slid a finger into the deep valley between her breasts.

At his touch her breath caught on a gasp.

So responsive to him.

So sensual.

Blood surged to his cock. He tamped down his own desire. The
woman had him in a continual state of arousal.

As much as he enjoyed the view of her exposed skin—just the
top swells of her breasts—he slipped the button through its loop.

“Dakota met a man in town yesterday inquiring after a woman
wearing a gold chained collar,” he said, reaching for the next open button.

Fear cast a shadow over her eyes. “Devil’s sent his men
after me.”

“It would seem so.”

“What is his price?”

“I don’t know. Dakota didn’t ask the man before sending him
on our back-trail toward Beaver Run.”

“Why did he send him there? Surely the town’s people will
tell him I left with you and someone fitting Dakota’s description. He’ll just
head back here, looking for us.”

“Maybe. Dakota felt it safer to get him to hightail it out
of town rather than try to find a place to hide his body.”

“Oh.”

“In the meantime, let’s keep your necklace hidden.”

He finished fastening the last button, concealing the gold
chains beneath the green silk and ivory lace. He cupped her face in his hands
and stared into her emerald eyes. “Dakota was right. You’re quite a vision
tonight.”

He caught her lips with his, watching her eyes widen then
her lids drift closed as he savored the taste and feel of her soft, warm mouth.
His cock stiffened as he continued to devour her lips.

He wanted to unfasten each button he’d just closed and all
the others too. Strip her naked. Impale her on his rod. To feel her hot slick
depths grip and stroke him as he thrust deep inside her.

Before he could give in to those urges, he eased up on the
kiss. Holding her face still, he rested his forehead against hers and dragged
air into his lungs to steady his heart and rising lust.

“Damn, woman, what you do to me.”

“You do the same to me.” Her eyes were warm with her own
desire as she smiled at him.

Good. He hated seeing dread in so fearless a woman.

He laughed at her candor, then dropped his hands from her
face. Stepping away, he donned his duster, then slipped her hand in the crook
of his arm.

“Darlin’, let’s see what the town of Goldwater can offer us
for dinner, shall we?”

* * * * *

Seated near the window and flanked by her companions, Lacy
sipped her coffee while Quinn and Dakota finished their slices of pie. She’d
managed to eat the huge dinner of steak, potatoes and greens the town’s only
respectable café offered up, but drew the line at the apple pie for dessert,
though the cinnamon and apples tickled her senses, almost changing her mind.
She knew if she took one more bite, she’d bust the buttons on her new dress.

“Damn, that was good,” Quinn said, setting his fork on his
empty plate.

“Haven’t eaten that good since we left Denver,” Dakota
agreed.

Lacy set her coffee cup down and folded her hands in her
lap, more to keep them from shaking rather than looking demure.

Mama always said men were easier to handle when their
stomachs were full as a tick on a dog. Now that both men had eaten their fill,
it was best to find out their plans for capturing Devil and his men.

She took a breath to settle her nerves then fixed a steady
gaze on Quinn. “Once I get you to Devil’s valley, what are your plans?”

The men exchanged looks.

That wasn’t good.

Quinn leaned back in his chair. “First, do you mind if I ask
you a question, darlin’?”

That was never good.

“Okay.”

“What is the one thing Devil wants that he has never been
able to possess?”

Fear gripped her insides.

She took another breath and willed it away. “Me.”

“Which makes me wonder, why didn’t Devil force you to take
your mother’s place once she became sick?”

“When Mama met Devil she was working in a faro house as a
dealer. When asked, she’d also read customers’ palms.”

“She was a fortune teller?”

“It was a family trait, something her mama taught her when
she was a child, along with some voodoo.” She took another sip of the
chicory-laced coffee. “After Mama predicted Devil would survive the siege of Vicksburg,
he returned and convinced her to leave New Orleans with him. He had her read
his palm before every raid. If she said he would be caught if he robbed a
certain town’s bank, he would call off the robbery.”

“Did she have visions, too, or just read palms?” Dakota
asked.

“Not everyone is half shaman like you.” Quinn shook his
head.

“You have visions?” she asked Dakota, ignoring Quinn’s
sarcasm.

“My mother was the daughter of the tribe’s shaman. Upon
occasion I have dreams of the future. Excuse my brother for his disbelief. He’s
never thought much of my visions.”

Quinn snorted sardonically. “You didn’t have one before
O’Keefe nearly cut you in half, did you?”

Dakota nodded. “True, but the dreams led me to the ranch and
the Captain.”

“That they did,” Quinn agreed with a nod.

“The Captain?” she asked.

“The man who adopted us and our other brothers. He took us
to his ranch, where he and his wife Juanita raised us,” Dakota explained.

She looked at Quinn. “The man you told me about.”

“Yes.” Quinn sat forward, leaning both elbows on the table.
“Let’s get back to the subject. So your mother used Devil’s superstition to
keep him away from you?”

Obviously he was uncomfortable with the topic of their
adoptive father, or was it his friend’s visions? Interesting.

“Mama read Devil’s palm one night after I’d turned twelve.
She told him he would live a long rich life as long as he never harmed me.”

“And what would happen to him if he did?”

She stared into his crystal blue gaze. “She told him if he
forced himself on me, then two angels of death would visit him and destroy all
he had.”

Quinn whistled. “That’s some curse.”

She shrugged. “Whether you believe it or not, Devil did. And
Mama reinforced it each time he looked my way. She also let me practice reading
some of the other men’s palms where he could see.”

“And do you have ‘visions’ too?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “No. But I can read many things in
a person’s palm. Would you like me to show you?”

They exchanged looks again.

So not good.

Then they both laid their right hands on the table, fists
closed.

“Tell us what you see here, darlin’.” Quinn’s voice and eyes
both held a challenge.

Slowly they uncurled their fingers.

Taking both their hands in hers, she studied them closely.

Strong male hands, calluses giving witness to them working
out of doors. What set them apart from any cowboys’ hands she’d read over the
years were the matching deep scars slashed from the base of their thumbs
straight across their life lines and their fate lines.