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  “Anything but that,” she readily admitted. “But those were the words Annabelle would’ve wanted.”

  The following morning, she’d changed her mind. She met Tuff, Buck, Jared, David, and Creed for breakfast and to discuss her plans for the day.

  The day Annabelle’s body had been discovered, Tuff sent word from the hotel expressing their condolences. He told her to take a few days for herself and invited her to breakfast on Saturday. It was Saturday and she still wanted a little time.

  She needed to right one terrible wrong.

  After explaining what she needed to do, the men argued over who would ride out to Pikes Peak.

  “There’s a winter storm moving in,” Tuff said. “Mary Margaret, I think you should wait. No one will see the tombstone once this snow sets in.”

  “It must be replaced right away,” Mary Margaret said firmly.

  “Today?” Creed asked.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” she replied, placing the napkin in her lap. They’d just taken their respective chairs around a dining table in Miner’s Restaurant, located at the foot of the steepest hill in Cripple Creek, home to one of the most profitable gold mines in Colorado.

  Tuff folded his hands atop the table. “I think it’s risky. You could ride up there and pay hell trying to get back home.” A beat later, he perked up. “Tell you what. I’ll do it. Give me the stone you want to replace the one there and I’ll ride up there and take care of it.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Tuff,” she said. “But I hope you understand. This is something I must take care of myself.”

  He gritted his teeth. Apparently, he didn’t understand as much as she’d thought he might.

  “Then I’ll ride with you.”

  “No way,” David objected. “You’ve gotta contact the banks and do something about that bounty we were expecting. Otherwise, it’s hard to say where our money will end up.”

  “He’s right,” Buck said.

  David smiled smugly. “And that means Creed can’t go because he’s on the accounts with Tuff.”

  Creed snarled. “Seems things are working out right nicely for you, huh?”

  David smirked. “Then that leaves me, Jared, and Buck.”

  “Jared needs to stay close to town,” Tuff said. “In case there’s any trouble.”

  “Then it’s me and you, Buck,” David said. “Wanna draw straws?”

  Tuff shook his head. “I can settle that battle. Buck and Jared will ride out with you. They’ll wait at the halfway mark. There’s a fork in the road down near the river right outside of town. If we’re expecting company, they’ll ride in from the north. They’ll cover the gap and keep a lookout. There’s an elevated spot with a good view of the road.” A beat later, he said, “David, if you aren’t back in a couple of hours, Buck will meet you. Jared, you’ll head back to town and let us know David and Mary Margaret are running late.”

  Mary Margaret watched how easily Tuff took the lead. He was a natural for strategizing. She said, “Is there any particular reason why you’re expecting trouble?”

  “Yes,” Tuff said. “But I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you or anyone else.”

  “I see,” she said, thinking she should’ve pressed for information all the same. Cripple Creek was her town. She had friends there. If trouble was on the way, she wanted to warn the marshal, alert the bartender and girls at the saloon. She wanted them protected, too.

  Tuff ordered a bountiful breakfast for all of them. Soon after, plates were served to the center of the table with helpings of scrambled eggs, platters of assorted meats, and lightly buttered rolls and jam.

  “Dig in,” Buck said. “We need to hurry if you and David are gonna beat that storm.”

  “No worries,” she assured him. “We still have time.” Having lived in Colorado for most of her life, she didn’t panic over the weather. Snow would cover the mountains surrounding Cripple Creek and the locals would go about their daily lives without ever glancing outside.

  When winter arrived, Pat and Pudding Marks, owners of The General Store, had enough supplies for everyone including those miners suffering through the winter in their tent camp. In the worst of times, Pat and Pudding even opened up the back of their home to those living there. They offered hot meals and warm beds, all free of charge.

  Excusing herself from the table, Mary Margaret thanked Tuff for the meal and told the others she would wait outside. By the time she secured the buttons on her winter coat, Buck, David, and Jared were already at the hitching post and ready to ride.

  Staring out the window, her mind churned with possibilities. She was strangely comfortable around them. During breakfast, the conversation had ranged from foods they enjoyed to places they’d seen. They told her about Tombstone, a town she hadn’t frequented in a number of years. They spoke of places back East and described in vivid detail all the changes she’d missed in Stockton, California, her favorite bustling city.

  On the way to the fork, the post Buck and Jared would assume, she asked, “Are the residents of Cripple Creek in any immediate danger?”

  “No,” Jared assured her.

  “Okay,” she said, willing to leave it at that.

  About a half-mile down the road, she changed her mind. She looked at Buck. “Can you give me your word?”

  “You’re asking a bounty hunter that question?” David asked, amused.

  “Yes,” Buck said, noncommittal outside of the lone reply.

  Before she could press again, the split divided them. Buck and Jared headed left. She and David veered off to the right. She found it strange when the men didn’t say anything. None of the usual, “We’ll see you in a few hours” or anything similar.

  She and David rode out to the cemetery in a comfortable silence. Once there, she retrieved the stone from her saddle pack and placed another tombstone over the one already there. It read: A beautiful friend, a lovely person. Here lies the woman strangers knew as Annabelle. Others knew her as a special gift from heaven above. She will be missed. She was dearly loved.

  “I didn’t know Annabelle but she was an entertaining woman,” David said, turning his gaze toward the snow-capped mountains. The first winter’s wrath had fallen in the higher elevations just a few days before. The ridge topping the peak glistened with ice, sparkling like millions of diamonds in the late fall high noon sunshine.

  “Yes, she was,” Mary Margaret said, standing over the fresh grave. Swiping away a few dozen tears, she turned away from David, not because she was ashamed to show emotion or unwilling to let him console her but because she was afraid of what she might think of him if he didn’t respond to her as she expected.

  David was a hardened man, a damn rogue of an outlaw, hiding behind legal forms and bounties to do what upstanding lawmen could not. He killed in cold blood. He dragged in the worst humans money could buy and asked for payment whether he brought them in dead or alive.

  For some reason, Mary Margaret found him sexier by the minute.

  His hands fell to her shoulders and he squeezed gently. “Come on, Mary Margaret. Let’s get back to town while the sun is still out. We’re bound to run into snow if we’re out here late.”

  She knew he was right. The chill was in the air. She could smell the change in the weather. It felt like snow. Winter waited but it wouldn’t dally long. She inhaled the chilly breeze and dreaded the ride back, uneasy now to find herself in the company of a man she barely knew.

  She took a deep breath and wondered then about the changes in herself. She’d been in the company of many strangers. For some reason she found it difficult to move beyond the growing apprehension of being somewhere alone with any of the men she’d recently met—Tuff, Buck, Jared, David, or Creed—if they were outside of the saloon.

  Had she grown too dependent on her surroundings? If so, why? Was she fearful of the men because they wanted her to tread beyond the saloon doors or was she outright afraid of the men themselves?

  It was the saloon. She’d be
en there too long.

  The profession had ruined her, spoiled her even, in a weird sort of way. She could rely on the other girls to keep a watch out for her and return the favor.

  Out here, there was no one. She had to trust the person beside her and what did she know about him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  She gasped then. On second thought, she knew all a woman needed to know about a man. David was handsome, sexy, built like the trunk of a tree without a flaw to mention, and he was deadly. He could protect her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

  “Sure,” she replied, not at all convinced of the fact.

  He offered her a cupped hand and she stepped into his palms, swinging her leg over the saddle. He waited at her side until she gathered her reins.

  “Annabelle was a good person.” She looked down on him with tears in her eyes.

  “You don’t have to make me a believer,” he said, patting her thigh.

  Mary Margaret stared at where his palm landed. She was supposed to train David and the others for a proper lady yet there she sat in riding pants, acting like a common whore. The title she wore certainly fit considering how quickly she responded to his touch.

  “Next time you decide to take a ride in the middle of winter, allow some time to have britches tailor made for you.”

  “Most ladies don’t ride in britches.”

  “Some do,” he informed her.

  “Not women in my profession,” she said. “Then again, I don’t suppose you think of me as a lady.”

  “I think you are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, reaching for her hand and squeezing her wrist.

  “You came by this decision when? Before or after you kissed me?”

  “I spotted you from the moment I entered the saloon.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted you then.”

  She remembered that dark and distant look in his eyes. She also recalled thinking he probably led a group of renegades. Then, she’d seen Creed enter the room and he’d stood out as leader. That is, until she met Tuff.

  “Is Tuff your boss?”

  He chuckled. “No.”

  “What about Creed?”

  “I’d follow him about as far as an outhouse.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Myself and whoever hires me and the fellas.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of the killing?”

  He released her hand. A blank expression washed over his face. “We need to get back.” It was all he said before he stepped away.

  “No,” Mary Margaret said, sliding away from her saddle and landing right in front of him. “This is not how you get along with a woman. You don’t avoid the difficult questions in hopes she won’t ask them again. You don’t dismiss her when she wants to know something you find too tough to explain. Women can be great companions. They can be your greatest strength but only if you’re smart enough to let one in. Are you?”

  David took a deep breath. He leaned over and gently stroked her cheek. “They can also be a man’s greatest weakness.”

  “Don’t avoid the question. Women can’t stand it when a man believes he can change the subject and all will be forgotten.” A beat later, she asked, “Are you, David? Are you capable of letting a woman into your life?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I think you are,” she said forcing a smile. Turning back to her mount, she lifted her knee and awaited a leg-up. Instead of offering assistance, David clasped her forearm and forced her to face him.

  “I get tired of the killing. I’m tired of hunting humans, tracking other people like a bloodhound but it’s what I do. I make out all right with my choices because I’m standing on the right side of the law. I don’t take a job when there’s doubt about a man’s innocence. If there isn’t an eye witness or a trail of crimes, I don’t collect a bounty because I don’t look for the man who assures I’m paid if he’s caught.”

  “Do you sleep at night?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I don’t,” she confessed. “Sometimes after the deed is over, a man will tell me about his wife and children. It’s the kind of conversation another woman doesn’t want to hear, even though women in town might think otherwise. I don’t take pleasure in knowing one man goes from my bed straight home to a wife believing he remains true to his vows. If I know beforehand, I don’t service him.”

  “Is that the truth?” he asked, narrowing his gaze.

  “Yes, David. It is. But it wasn’t always.”

  “And that’s why you can’t sleep at night?”

  “No, I don’t rest because I know what I am. The money you earn has blood on it. The money in my pocket is tainted as well.”

  He nodded slightly. Then he surprised her by asking for permission she’d never granted before as a whore. “Would you mind if I kissed you again?”

  She moistened her lips. “I’d be honored, Mr. Manson.”

  “If you call me Mr. Manson again, I may have to spank you.”

  She shrugged her right shoulder. “You never know I might like it.”

  “I think you would.”

  “I think you’re right,” she said, waiting for him to take the lead.

  David placed the palms of his hands on either side of her face. He drew her to him, dropping the sweetest and lightest pecks on her lips before devouring her mouth like a hungry man in search of a satisfying kiss with a promise of much more.

  His tongue slid across hers, back and forth, as he made love to her mouth like she longed to feel him making love to her body. And since when had she thought of sex as making love? She wondered if she’d ever considered the act as anything more than hardcore fucking and frolicking.

  The kiss turned spicy. The passion kicked up a notch. Still, he kept them separated by the way he held her face. His lips skimmed across hers and he kissed her cheek and ear, his lips gliding down her neck before he growled and stopped himself cold, without a preamble to warn or without returning to his original starting place.

  “You are an excellent teacher, Mary Margaret,” he said softly. His eyes were hooded and the two-day growth of beard made him look sexier than when he’d first appeared at the Cripple Creek Saloon.

  “I can’t take credit here,” she said.

  “Sure you can,” he told her, bringing her hand to his lips. “That kiss was sensational.”

  “You’re pretty easy on the lips.”

  “You’re pretty easy on the eyes,” he remarked.

  She swallowed hard. As much as she tried to defy the building lust, the yearning was there. Desire existed. It was all consuming and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t resist him. And she knew it.

  Turning her back to him, she reached for her reins. His hands covered hers and he stood behind her, his body heat so hot and enticing she rubbed against him, her bottom bumping against his erection.

  David grabbed her hips and thrust behind her, his hard length nearly penetrating straight through the clothing designed to separate them. There was enough material there anyway. Layers upon layers to shed, rip apart.

  “Let me Mary Margaret,” he pleaded. His hands were at her breasts. He fondled the buttons, working for access. “Don’t say no.”

  She shook her head then bowed it, watching as his fingers allowed her freedom, observing how her nipples spiked in the cool October air. He reached inside her blouse and pinched her nipple, rolling the point until she cried out, moaned, and shivered.

  Still, she didn’t face him. She wanted what they could have like this, without restrictions, without anything to stop them from embracing their desires as they were theirs to own.

  His hands fell to her sides and he stripped away her pants. As quickly as hers were around her ankles, his britches were balled at his feet. The length of his dick pressed against her hip and she whimpered as he dragged the crest to her bottom, sipping her earlobe as he popped the question, “Will you let me take you here?”

  His finger caresse
d her crack and then disappeared between her globes, twirling seconds later around the puckered rim of her asshole.

  She quivered under his touch. “Yes. Oh God, yes!”

  “Will you like it?” he asked, a guttural pitch to his voice.

  “Yes,” she grated out, holding her breath as his finger probed and invaded.

  “Mmm,” he muttered, sliding the erect digit in and out. “You’re so dry, Mary Margaret. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’ll never hurt me,” she said, suddenly transformed into the whore ready to self-preserve.

  Oh God, she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want David to see this woman. They were enjoying one another and yet, here she was, putting up barriers, stacking up walls.

  “I’ll never try,” he assured her, licking her nape, whispering across her shoulder blades.

  She stilled against him and he immediately stopped. Withdrawing his finger, he gripped her side and forced her to turn. Stark determination marked its place in his eyes. “I want you to see me take you.”

  He lifted her to him and thrust inside her in one sudden jolt. And it was pure and exquisite ecstasy from the very beginning. Stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust.

  Chapter Six

  “Oh dear God, Mary Margaret,” he crooned, stuffing his length inside her hot pussy. Holding still for three or four glorious seconds, he searched her eyes looking for a glimpse of what she certainly must’ve felt from the moment he entered her.

  A strong woman stared back at him, a woman unwilling to unlock her heart and give him a glimpse of the passionate person she had the ability to become with the right man…him.

  Draping her arms over his shoulders, she threw her head back and he devoured her neck, kissing down her trunk until his mouth reached those full mounds. He nipped at one nipple, carried on with the other then moved upward again, kissing her elegant chest and long, exquisite neck before claiming her lips all over again.

  Her tongue met his and a fiery kiss transpired. She fed his strength, managed his lust, and gained his love in that one moment, in that one damning minute.

  He fucked her harder, each stroke going deeper than the last, each thrust delivering more than the one before. Her pussy clenched around his length and her body welcomed his as his cock thrummed inside her hot cunt, twitching up and down as her tight pussy milked his cock, drawing him closer and closer to release.