Carol Finch (7 page)

First off, she was a murder suspect who had so many tricks up her sleeve that it was downright scary. Second,
he didn’t dare let her know that he’d developed an irrational fascination for her. A man would have to be just plain
loco
to hand a woman like Savanna that kind of ammunition. She’d use his vulnerability and physical attraction as weapons against him.

Hell, she was a pistol-packing, knife-wielding, pocket-picking holy terror already. No need to make things worse!

Fletch stalked over to take cover under a tree. He propped his back against the rough bark and hunkered down to outwait the raging storm. Two hours later he slid to the ground and fell asleep, serenaded by the rain pattering on the leaves. But the taste of Savanna’s tantalizing kiss was there to greet him.

Although guilt and regret were never far from Fletch’s mind, it wasn’t Elaina’s face he saw in his fitful dreams; it was the captivating image of this auburn-haired, ebony-eyed hellion who alternately tormented him and pleasured him.

She was driving him crazy…and he didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

“I have to see to my needs.” Savanna’s voice broke the silence of dawn. She glared at Fletch because he’d left her tied up the whole livelong night.

He rolled to his feet to tie a rope from her ankle to his. He kept his hand clamped on her left arm—just in case. She glowered pitchforks at him as he followed her to the edge of the underbrush so she could relieve herself.

“You lost the luxury of complete privacy after you escaped me twice,” he said as they returned to camp. “Don’t expect favors.”

Her reply was a glare that consigned him to a place where the hottest climates prevailed.

She watched Fletch gather their supplies then strap them
on to the horses. He stepped behind a tree to trade his wet clothes for a set of dry ones from his pouch. He didn’t offer her the same courtesy, though her wet shirt clung to her like a coat of paint. Obviously he was going to let her blow dry in the wind.

Savanna went rigid when he picked her up and deposited her on the horse. She didn’t want him touching her. It triggered too many erotic sensations she’d just as soon forget. She gnashed her teeth when he double-checked her satchels to make sure she hadn’t managed to lift a weapon when he wasn’t looking. Too bad she hadn’t had a chance. She’d like to give him a good shooting.

He arched an amused brow when he came up with a handful of widow’s digs, a serape and a rolled-up sombrero. “You came prepared, didn’t you? What other disguises do you have in here? I’ve already seen the squaw dresses and your young boy disguise.” His eyebrows nearly rocketed off his head when he held up a red satin dress that boasted a diving neckline. “A prostitute?” he croaked. “Interesting. Were you also planning to accept payment for services?”

She scowled at him and said, “Are we leaving or not?”

“Leaving.” He crammed everything back into the satchel.

And off they went—with him holding the reins to her horse, her hands and feet secured to the saddle. Savanna decided to ignore him. She spent her time conjuring up and discarding escape plans. Their progress had been delayed because of her illness and the storm, but if they kept this swift pace, they’d arrive in Tishomingo the next evening. That didn’t give her much opportunity to make a getaway. Needless to say, she was getting desperate.

If all else failed she’d try to bargain with Fletch. She couldn’t positively identify George Miller as Grady Mills,
of course, but she could tell Fletch about the man working at a stage station she had passed through recently. That would be her last resort if she couldn’t elude him.

Yet, she had no guarantee that Fletch would agree to exchange her freedom for information. He might promise to let her go
after
she told him what he wanted to know. Then he might double-cross her. If she announced that she knew where Grady was, he might torture her because she wouldn’t divulge the information readily. After all, it was her ace in the hole.

She studied him speculatively, wondering what lengths he’d go to, to get what he wanted. Would he be the least bit trustworthy, especially when an astronomical reward and much-valued information was on the line? She suspected he’d betray her in a heartbeat—unless she devised a way to keep the upper hand.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded.

Savanna shrugged noncommittally.

“Spill it, Paleface. What’s on that sharp mind of yours?”

“Are you going to feed me today or take me in, starved and too weak to struggle?”

To her surprise, he drew their mounts to a halt, dismounted then set her to her feet. She muttered when he kept a leash on her and secured her bound wrists to another tree. And damn him for the degrading practice!

“I’m sick of hugging trees,” she mumbled in annoyance. “I’ve reached the point that hugging
you
of my own free will holds more appeal!”

His mouth tightened into a grim line. He stared at her and she stared right back. Then he said, “I’m still not taking all the blame for that sizzling kiss we shared.”

“Nevertheless, I consider it all
your
fault,” she declared.

Fletch wheeled around and walked off. “I’ll fetch lunch.”

Savanna didn’t hear any gunshots, but Fletch returned a quarter of an hour later with a dressed prairie chicken. He built an inconspicuous fire and put the meat on to cook.

“I’ll give you whatever you want if you let me go,” she blurted as he offered her a tin plate of food.

“Give me what? The money you picked from Roark Draper’s pocket the night he died?”

“No, I have my own funds to pay you.”

“You acquired them legitimately?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yes.” She clamped her mouth shut.

“Yet you refuse to say where this money comes from?”

She wasn’t about to tell him that the Cantrells had money but they preferred to live modestly. Fletch might decide to hold her for hostage if acquiring the bounty didn’t work out.

When she didn’t reply, he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t need money. I have a tidy nest egg stashed in a bank in Texas.” He smiled caustically. “I’d tell you where it is, but you’d probably ride off and rob it to spite me. There’s another cache in Colorado after my days of bounty hunting and doing detective work for cattlemen and railroad officials.”

She wasn’t surprised that he’d spent most of his adult life tracking criminals. He was an expert at it—much to her dismay.

“If money doesn’t motivate you then you can have
me,
” she managed to say without her voice crackling.

He went perfectly still. His penetrating gaze locked with hers. She suffered a severe case of nerves while he raked her over from the top of her curly windblown hair to the toes of her scuffed boots. No doubt, he was remembering how she looked naked and how they had kissed each other
senseless and strained against each other as if they couldn’t get close enough to satisfy themselves.

A blush worked its way up her neck to flood her cheeks while she waited for him to accept or reject her impulsive proposition. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she’d made it. Surely it wasn’t because she really wanted to see where that blazing kiss might lead. Even if that were true, she wouldn’t admit it to him. He’d gloat himself sick.

“Last night you vowed you wanted nothing to do with me,” he reminded her, watching her intently.

She averted her gaze, but she held her head high. “I was mad at you last night. This is today.”

He chuckled in amusement. “So now you’re crazy about me?”

“I fell madly in love with you first thing this morning,” she cooed smartly. “If I can’t have you I’ll die of wanting.”

He burst out laughing as he tore off a piece of meat and fed it to her. She noticed he was careful not to put his fingertips too near her teeth, for fear she’d bite him.

She was thinking about it.

“I swear, Paleface, you are incorrigible.”

“Thank you… My body for my freedom,” she said with determined resolve. “Whatever it takes.”

He took a step closer, his masculine body pressing against her shoulder and hip. His warm breath caused gooseflesh to pebble her skin. She cursed her spontaneous reaction to this ruggedly handsome devil. If he hadn’t left her hugging the tree she might’ve thrown herself into his arms—and that would give him an edge she’d never allowed any man to have.

“If I wanted what you’re offering I’d never have to turn
you loose to get it. I could stake you out.
If
that’s what I wanted from you.”

“But you’d have a fight on your hands.” She stared into his striking blue eyes. “This way I’ll be more than agreeable.”

Her breath stalled in her chest when his gaze dropped to her mouth. If he kissed her, she might forget this had everything to do with bartering for her freedom, not satisfying forbidden needs. She could
not
allow this to become personal, even if it had felt intimately personal when they were kissing and arching hungrily against each other the previous night.

“As tempting as it sounds, Savanna,” he murmured against her neck, causing her to tremble uncontrollably, “I’ll have to decline.” He fed her another piece of meat. “I might enjoy you so much that I let my guard down. Since you’ve been accused of killing your former lover, I wouldn’t want to take a chance of ending up six feet under. Like him.”

Fletch stepped away, surprised by the look of hurt he saw flickering in the depths of her dark eyes before she glanced the other way. He wasn’t sure if she felt rejected or disappointed that he hadn’t fallen into the clever trap she’d devised. Whatever the case, she became so annoyed that she wouldn’t look at him and she refused to eat another bite of food.

He ambled back to the campfire to take his meal. Stilted silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional warble of birds and chirp of crickets.

Savanna muttered under her breath. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself for offering her body in exchange for freedom. Plus, she was agitated with him because he hadn’t seemed overly tempted—which indicated that she didn’t have much effect on him. He’d hurt her feelings and
trampled on her feminine pride. She knew she wasn’t the dignified, refined lady that her mother was, but she’d never had trouble attracting male attention before. Ordinarily she had to dodge men’s unwanted advances.

Fletch, however, treated her like…like…Well, she didn’t know. Her association with him went beyond previous encounters with men. She scolded herself for being infatuated by a man who had no place in her future. Moreover, because of him, she might not even
have
a future.

Fifteen minutes later, as Fletch chased his meal with a sip of whiskey, she relied on her last resort and said, “If you don’t want me in your bed in exchange for my freedom, then how do you feel about learning the whereabouts of the man you’ve been chasing? Grady Mills, isn’t it? I’ve met the man you described. He’s living in Indian Territory under an assumed name.”

Fletch choked on his whiskey. “You know where Grady is and you didn’t tell me?” He frowned warily. “Or do you
want
me to believe you, since you know I’m on a mission to find that bastard? Damn it to hell, is this another ploy?”

She shrugged casually. “Doubt me if you want, Fletch. But I know where to find a man who matches Grady Mills’s description. But I’m not giving out the information unless I have something to gain from it.”

“Your freedom?”

“Precisely.”

Fletch scrutinized her carefully. He reminded himself that Savanna was cunning, elusive and intelligent. Was she telling him the truth now? Had she
ever
once told him the truth?

“I said that I know where Grady is and I’ll trade—”

“I heard what you said,” he interrupted. “I’m just trying to decide if I believe you.”

A
lthough Savanna questioned the prudence of bringing up Grady Mills’s name, she’d gained Fletch’s undivided attention. She had to stay a mental step ahead or he’d double-cross her.

The suspense of waiting while Fletch stood, carefully appraising her, trying to decide how to twist her bargain to his advantage, made her impatient. “Well? Do we have a deal?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Ah, yes, I do love the smell of wood burning,” she taunted. “Make up your mind, Fletch. If you prefer to ride into Tishomingo to have me jailed, then we’re wasting time. Not to mention that I’m damn tired of hugging this tree.”

A wry smile pursed his lips. She knew that all she excelled at with Fletcher Hawk—hard-hearted, rough-edged former bounty hunter, detective and present day Ranger/Deputy U.S. Marshal—was coaxing an occasional smile from him.

“Okay, Cantrell, I’ll bite,” he said as he untied her wrists. “How are you planning to convey this
supposed
information about Mills to me? You going to lead me to him,
then go your merry way? You going to point me in his general direction then thunder off for parts unknown?” He stared at her with those vivid sky-blue eyes that bore straight into her, trying to unlock the secrets in her soul. “Let’s cut to the chase, Paleface. How do you plan to trade what I want when you know I don’t trust you?”

Savanna tilted her head to compensate for the difference in their height. She watched him watch her, as if he was searching for any indication that she might be lying. She thought she saw a flicker of emotion on his face, but when she blinked, it was gone. He was the master of concealing his feelings. Hard as she tried, she’d never be as good at it as he was.

Only God knew what this man was thinking, and even God probably had a devil of a time figuring him out.

“Well?”
he prompted impatiently.

Savanna dragged in a deep breath—and noticed his attentive gaze dropped to her chest. She was pleased to note that he wasn’t completely unaware of her as a woman. But since he didn’t like her or trust her, she knew she was nothing more than a convenient, available female. Fletch was so self-disciplined that he refused to allow himself to be distracted as easily as average men. For sure and certain, there was nothing run-of-the-mill about Fletcher Hawk.

“Is that wood I smell burning in there?” he taunted, straight-faced. “C’mon, Paleface, tell me how we’re going to exchange what
I
want for what
you
want?”

Savanna reached an instant decision while they stood there, toe-to-toe, staring each other down, trying not to give an inch unless absolutely necessary. “Here are the terms,” she stated. “I’ve decided that going free isn’t quite enough to satisfy me.”

He blew out his breath then rolled his eyes. “Why doesn’t this surprise me? What do you want
now?
”

“I want your cooperation and your assistance,” she negotiated. “You’re a former detective and now you’re a Texas Ranger and Deputy U.S. Marshal. My back is against the wall. I need your help in proving my innocence. I want to bring Roark’s murderer to justice and you have the legal authority to see it done. I also need your expert help in finding out what has become of Willow.” Savanna sincerely hoped Willow wasn’t involved because she wasn’t sure she could turn in her friend, even to save herself. “In return, not only will I take you to the man who meets Grady Mills’s description, but I will also help you capture him.”

His thick black brows swooped down in a sharp V and suspicion clouded his expression. “You want me to prove you’re innocent, even if you’re not?” He snorted disdainfully. “Are you going with the self-defense plea now? Or are you implying that I should pull a few strings so you can walk, since I’m a lawman?”

She stamped her foot in exasperation then wheeled away, but he tugged on the rope, as if towing a misbehaving pet to heel.

That infuriated her to the extreme!

“Damn it, how many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t kill Roark? I freely admit that I
wanted
to kill him, but I didn’t do the deed!” she shouted at him. “I’ve lost track of my best friend and I feel responsible for whatever has happened because I persuaded her to come to town for a visit. I tried to warn Willow about Roark, but she was flattered by his attention and attracted by his dangerous lure. She didn’t understand that Roark views women the same way you do. We are to be used and discarded when—”

“I resent that!” he cut in tersely.

“Maybe you don’t use woman to Roark’s degrading and abusive extremes,” she qualified, “but I am a means to an end for you.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I
know,
Mr. Ranger/Marshal,” she declared. “You’re doing it right now. That’s what the bargain on the table is all about. I’m guessing that if you bring
me
in, as a favor to Solomon, then you’ll ask
him
to help you track down Mills.”

“No, I prefer to work alone,” he replied as he towed her to the horses.

“So you don’t want me or my help, either, because I’ve given you all sorts of grief,” she speculated. “I think you’re just being contrary because I bruised your colossal pride by escaping you a few times. You’re holding out for an offer that weighs heavily in your favor.”

A lot she knew. He wanted her—badly. The prospect of being intimate with her was driving him crazy. He fought an internal battle—night and day—to keep his distance and his perspective. He’d been relying so heavily on his iron-willed willpower that it was wearing him
down
—and
out.

In addition, he was aggravated at her for withholding information about a man who fit Grady’s description. Plus, she was trying to maneuver him into using his position of authority to drop the charges against her.
Who
was using
whom
here? Sounded like the pot calling the kettle black to him.

His thoughts trailed off when he heard the sound of galloping horses. He swore sourly when he recognized the three
hombres
who had taken potshots at him and Bill Solomon after they’d disembarked from the Red River ferry.

Fletch grabbed the horse’s reins and headed toward the
steep slope that angled down to the creek bank. “We’ll split up,” he whispered.

It wasn’t safe for them to be seen together because of the bounty on her head. He knew he was offering Savanna the chance to skip out on him again, but if things went sour and he was injured, he didn’t want the three men to abuse her. To give her a fighting chance, he untied her hands and returned one of the pistols he’d confiscated from her.

“I assume you know how to use this thing,” he murmured.

“What do you think?” she asked as she tucked the Colt pistol into the waistband of her breeches.

“I think Belle Starr has serious competition for the reigning title of Bandit Queen of Indian Territory. She probably took shooting lessons from you.” He stared stonily at her. “I’m gonna be mad as hell if I wind up with a bullet in my back like your friend Roark Draper.”

“That’s not my style,” she said as she veered upstream. “Besides, I told you that I fell madly in love with you this morning. Wouldn’t want you to come to harm.”

He snorted. “I’m not as gullible as I look, Paleface. You don’t have the slightest use for me, and we both know it.”

Fletch skidded his horse down the embankment to hide in the underbrush. He blinked, flabbergasted, when he glanced in Savanna’s direction—and saw neither hide nor hair of her. Where the hell had she gotten off to so quickly? Her survival skills and familiarity with the area never ceased to astound him.

Damn this interruption, Fletch thought as he hunkered down in the bushes. Savanna would probably be long gone after they outwaited the intruders. He and Savanna hadn’t hammered out the details of their bargain. He had several terms and conditions he wanted met before he agreed to
anything. Hopefully, the fragile truce would be enough to bring her back.

Fletch recoiled into the underbrush when the three scallywags dismounted and snooped around the abandoned campsite. They passed around a bottle of whiskey, and then wandered off to relieve themselves a half hour later.

Fletch contemplated a showdown. He’d like to arrest these men for bushwhacking, but he didn’t want to alert anyone to his association with Savanna. The high price on her head incited every Tom, Dick and Harry to attempt to arrest her. Fletch might become a potential target that stood in the way of collecting a large bounty. Someone might even go so far as to accuse him of aiding and abetting a fugitive to discredit him.

Hell, there was no end to the list of complications Savanna could cause him. If she didn’t shoot him, some greedy vigilante might do it to collect the reward. Plus, she refused to tell Fletch where Grady was until she’d cleared her name. She just kept twisting his life into one tangle after another.

Fletch’s attention fixated on the long, stringy-haired blond ruffian in buckskins who wandered off in the direction Savanna had taken. He held his breath, wondering how Savanna would react to having the man accidentally happen on to her.

He waited anxiously, expecting to hear a gunshot. To his relief, there was nothing but a quiet groan, a muffled thud and the rattle of underbrush.

Sitting atop her horse, Savanna emerged from the dense thicket. She’d donned the serape and sombrero and used the chuck of charcoal he’d seen in her saddlebag to disguise herself by drawing on a mustache and goatee. She shrugged
at him, as if to say she’d had no choice but to do whatever she’d done to the unsuspecting hooligan who’d stumbled on to her hiding place.

When she kicked the strawberry roan into full gallop and charged directly toward the three men’s tethered horses, Fletch rolled his eyes and swore sourly. Savanna, dressed like a Mexican bandito, herded the wild-eyed horses northeast, inviting a volley of gunfire from the two men who gave chase on foot.

“Damn daredevil female,” he muttered as she disappeared from sight with the extra mounts—and two men chasing her.

On one hand, Fletch wanted to reprimand her, but she had provided him with the chance to retreat so no one could link them together. On the other hand, he might not see her again because she was too damn proficient at going to ground.

Curse it, he should have his head examined for releasing her. Then, after three hours passed and she didn’t rejoin him, he figured it was a sure sign that she’d outsmarted him again. Fletch let loose with another string of profanities as he rode toward Tishomingo to tell Bill Solomon that he had failed his assignment and to send someone else to track her down. Ashamed though he was to admit it, he’d met his match in Savanna.

Fletch had acquired the reputation of making every apprehension in the line of duty, but he’d failed with Grady and Savanna. That bugged the hell out of him. But what really tormented him was this feeling of unfinished business with Savanna. It had nothing whatsoever to do with murder charges or bargains. It had everything to do with desiring a woman who’d caused him more trouble than he’d anticipated.

“Appy,” he said to his horse. “I shouldn’t have taken this assignment that’s gone from bad to worse.”

The horse nickered, as if in complete agreement.

Savanna walked into Fletch’s unattended campsite after dark. She gasped, startled, when she suddenly found herself clamped against a solid wall of muscle. A dagger pricked her throat. She sagged in relief when she picked up Fletch’s scent. She marveled at his amazing ability to materialize from nowhere. She wished she were as adept at it as he was.

“That isn’t a nice way to greet your partner,” she said as she uplifted her hand to angle the dagger away from her neck.

“It wasn’t very nice of you to leave me high and dry this afternoon, either,” he rasped in her ear as he disarmed her. “I’m surprised you came back. Where have you been?”

“Scouting the countryside for posses and vigilantes,” she replied. “The three men I left horseless are headed this direction, but they stopped to help themselves to their bottles of whiskey. The five men who recently scoured the Arbuckles in search of me are headed back to Draper Ranch. They probably have to report in to Oliver and re-stock supplies.”

“What did you do to that hapless bastard who accidentally happened on to your hiding spot earlier?” Fletch asked.

“I conked him on the head with a tree branch. I didn’t want any of them to recognize me, so I put on a disguise.”

He gestured for her to take a seat near the small campfire. “We have a few details to iron out with this bargain.”

Savanna eyed him warily. He had no idea how difficult it had been for her to return to him. She’d fought an inner battle all afternoon, wondering if she’d be better off if she struck
out on her own again. She had no assurances that he wouldn’t double-cross her. She’d really like a written guarantee.

“I promised I’d give you the information on Grady Mills after you help me clear my name. What else do you want?” she asked as she doffed the serape and sombrero.

Fletch munched on the modest meal he’d prepared then inclined his raven head, indicating that she should help herself to the food. “My terms are clear-cut and simple. I need to know you have my back and you need to know I have yours.
If
we’re going to work together.” He stared her squarely in the eye. “No more spiriting off on your own without consulting me first.”

“
Consulting
you?” she asked challengingly.

“
Informing
me,” he rephrased, then smiled in amusement. “Sorry to have offended your fierce independent streak, Paleface. But if you don’t stick with me, or at least let me know where I can find you, then this arrangement isn’t going to work worth a damn.”

Savanna nodded, distracted by the way the campfire light glistened in his shiny hair. Curse it, she wished she’d quit noticing his masculine appeal. “Fine. I can do that.”

He smirked. “Thus far you haven’t been able to.”

“Thus far we’ve been on opposing sides. You wanted me locked up and I wanted the freedom to find Willow and escape the trumped-up charges against me.” She thrust her hand toward him. “Partners, then? You’ll trust me and I’ll trust you back?”