Tall, Dark, and Determined (3 page)

And while he'd overplayed, Twyler hadn't lost this hand yet. So he asked himself, how would Creed move next? How quickly? And how could Twyler get the goods—and the last laugh?

Funny thing about mistakes
, Lacey reflected less than an hour later,
they travel in groups. Become familiar with one, and all of a sudden a girl finds herself besieged with a slew of them
.

The gun pressed to her temple brought the realization she might not have the opportunity to meet with any more mistakes. Of course, nothing less than a pistol at point-blank range would convince Lacey to let herself—or her blue worsted wool—be dragged through the muddy mountainside in a frigid downpour.

This, too, was
all her fault
.

And none of her friends were around to tell her otherwise. No, all the other women remained safe and dry in the kitchen, most likely unaware that Lacey should have returned with those peppermint sticks by now. How horrifying, the idea she might not even be missed while a crazed criminal kidnapped her.

She concentrated on breathing shallowly through her nose until he abruptly removed his grimy hand from her mouth.

“What do you want? Where are you taking me? Couldn't you have waited for better weather?” Lacey didn't waste her breath screaming—he'd obviously waited until they were beyond earshot of the town. Why bother howling when she could harangue?

“Money, you'll see, and no.” The man had the effrontery to grunt, as though hauling her about required more strength than he'd anticipated. Honestly, what kidnapper expected a woman to go tromping to her doom? Sagging into deadweight slowed the man down at least. “Now shut your trap and start walking, woman.”

“I'll pay you well to return me, I'll walk back to town, and I'll even be silent,” Lacey offered. Guns made her generous. The mention of money made her more comfortable. A greedy man might negotiate where a man intending personal harm would not.

“You couldn't pay me to go back to town with Granger lurking about,” the logger refused. “As for the others, you'll do as I say or live to regret it, missy.” He jammed the pistol into her tender skin, bruising to underscore his meaning.

So long as I live
. Lacey almost chirped the response, but sensed it would provoke her captor. So she stayed quiet for a moment while she thought—and shuffled her feet in a show of grudging obedience, falling back with her full weight on his shoulder with each “step” she took, as though walking backward up a muddy mountainside in sodden skirts might be difficult.

“We'll order anyone named Granger out of town, Mr.—”

“Twyler.” He cut her off, coarse speech dissolving beneath a sneering mockery of cultured tones. “We haven't been properly introduced. You think me a logger, but I'm a gentleman.”

“Of course. True gentlemen kidnap ladies and trudge them up mountainsides at gunpoint regularly.” Lacey coughed as the arm wound beneath her ribs tightened mercilessly. “My mistake.”

“I wouldn't do this at all if it weren't for Granger,” the man hissed into her ear. “He's hunted me here, and now I don't have time to woo one of you women and win your fortune legally.”

“That makes sense,” Lacey allowed. “Fortune hunting has been an honored sport of gentlemen for generations. But I'll still pay you to release me—and we'll send this Granger from town. We don't need any new men anyway.” Not so much as a twinge of conscience for all the lies she told. Twyler wouldn't get a cent, and she might not send Granger away at all because once the massive brawl in the diner ended, several loggers would be leaving Hope Falls in disgrace. But none of that mattered.

“You stupid twit.” Twyler's arm moved from around her waist. Almost instantly, his hand fisted in her hair as he jerked her backward, quickening the pace. “Do you really think I'm the only man to give a false name? Ah, but I fooled him until today, just as he fooled me. The difference is my bluff wins because I fooled all of you longer.
Creed is Granger
.”

Fear, ice-cold, slithered down Lacey's spine as Twyler went on about games and bluffs and Creed.
He's not sane
. She no longer pretended to drag her feet; dread made them heavy and plodding. All hopes of reasoning with her captor or waiting for the two dozen loggers to come searching for her unraveled in an instant. Her kidnapper's plan couldn't work—he headed away from the train—and when he realized it, the wildness in his voice would be vented upon his victim.
Me
. Lacey gulped in air.

“Now you're quiet, eh? Creed's not your hero anymore? Don't you worry, Miss Lyman. You'll be nice and safe right here.” He patted a large tree stump slightly downhill of them.

“What?” Lacey gaped at the nondescript logger whose dull clothes and brown hair seemed so normal until one caught the maniacal glint in his eye. “You're leaving me here to wait?”

Hope fluttered once again. If he planned to tie her to a tree, she'd be found eventually. Or she might work herself free.

“Yep. When I get the money, I'll send them your location.” Twyler rocked back on his heels. “So you just hop on in there.”

Thoughts stuttered to a stop as he gestured again to the hollow trunk of a massive old tree. “Did … did you say … in?”

“I'll boost you up, and you can't get back out on your own. It'll be tight quarters, but a bitty thing like you should fit.”

“No.” Lacey looked at the jagged edges, brittle at the top, which she could see from her vantage point. Rain streamed into the narrow black opening, and she didn't want to think what creature hollowed it out in the first place. Or how many types of rodents and insects made their home within now. She didn't care whether or not she
might
be able to fit inside. “I won't.”

“Don't test my patience.” Twyler tightened his grip on the gun. “I said I'd tell them your location. I didn't promise you'd be alive. So you can climb on in and they can find you snug and spitting mad, or I can waste a slug and cram you down there so they find whatever the bugs leave behind.”

“Because you're a gentleman,” she muttered, debating.

“Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “That hooped skirt isn't going to make it though. You'll have to shimmy out of it first.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lacey stopped debating. Surely the man hadn't just instructed her to
disrobe
before descending into the dark bowels of a forest prison? As though she'd simply cast off her best worsted wool in the middle of the day. While it rained.

“You heard me. The cage thing and bustle have to go, at the very least.” He brandished the gun again, making Lacey decide there really ought to be some sort of limit on how many outrageous demands a man could make per pistol. In all fairness, Mr. Twyler had to have used up all the good threats in that one.

Which really isn't fair, when I'm probably a better shot than he is
. Lacey heaved a sigh over the pearl-handled pistol in her purse. Back in the kitchen in Hope Falls.
It only goes to show
, she decided,
that of all my recent mistakes, the absolute worst was neglecting the importance of my accessories
.

Evie gripped her purse, hoping she wouldn't need to use the pistol inside it. Lacey tried to teach her to shoot when she gave each one of them a matching firearm, but every woman knew that the safest thing in range was whatever Evie aimed at. It still rankled how Cora and Naomi learned to shoot so quickly.

Even worse, she knew Lacey wasn't carrying the weapon she'd ensured they all possessed. Her friend's purse, with the first of the pearl-handled pieces inside, remained on the baking table. She'd left it there when she ducked back in the storeroom in search of peppermint sticks to settle an uneasy stomach.

The women let her take an extra moment to compose herself—Lacey felt irrationally responsible for the men's poor behavior—but the man Evie now knew as Twyler announced he'd look at the mercantile for the peppermint sticks and left the room. Then Jake burst back into the kitchen, abandoning a false trail and desperate to find his brother's murderer. But they were too late. Time's slow crawl had sped, and the only sign left of Lacey were scuffs in the mud beyond the storeroom door.

Now Evie watched with her heart in her throat, following behind the man trying to save her friend and clear his brother's name. Jake Creed held more than his fair share of courage, and, she was afraid, about the same amount of her heart.

“Let her go, Twyler.” Jake edged out from behind the uneven row of trees concealing him from view. “She's no good to you.” The sight that greeted him wore his considerable store of patience very thin indeed. “You can't shove a full-grown woman into a hollow tree stump, Twyler. And there's no reason to anyway. Drop your gun, set her free, and we'll go back to town.”

“Ah, ah.” With that, Twyler hauled Lacey against him, pressing a sharp blade against her delicate throat. With his free hand, he pointed a pistol at Evie, as though threatening the women made him powerful. “I suggest you drop your weapon, Granger, if you want both—or either—of these ladies to see another sunrise. Your one shot might just as well hit Miss Lyman as myself, but I'm guaranteed success with at least one of my targets.” Satisfaction oozed from his voice. “Let's get on with it, shall we? A stacked deck is a gamer's greatest ally.”

“I wonder”—Evie pretended nonchalance, trying to look unthreatening—”whether that's not something like a woman with a well-packed purse.” In an instant she pulled out her familiar dainty pistol with an inlaid mother-of-pearl handle.

She ignored the fact she couldn't shoot worth a burnt biscuit. Evie also overlooked Lacey's renewed struggles. Obviously her friend didn't want to be anywhere near the direction where Evie chose to fire. Not that Evie wanted to fire at all, but Twyler didn't need to know that.

“You've proven more perceptive than most, Miss Thompson.” A gleam of appreciation lit Twyler's gaze. “But I find myself unimpressed by your toy. This is between Granger and me.”

“Then let the women go.” Creed jumped on the idea.

“We've come too far for that. Throw down your gun, Mr. Granger, and admit that the woman at your side wouldn't be able to hit a target if I drew one three feet from her nose.”

“Oh, that's absolutely true, Mr. Twyler.” Evie's smile widened. “It used to be that I couldn't hit the … what's the expression my mentor used? Oh yes, I couldn't hit the broadside of the bunkhouse. But it's such a cunning little piece.”

“No.” Twyler's self-satisfied ooze dried up in a hurry. “You want me dead. You want me to ignore that little pistol.” He darted glances around himself, edging farther out of reach. “She changes the game. Changes the cards, different value …” He degenerated into strange rambling mutters.

“Why did you kill my brother, Edward?” Jake asked.

“He noticed me cheating and started to raise a fuss. Two men I'd fleeced a few nights prior sat just one table over, so I couldn't allow that. And I'd already marked him for carrying a large amount of cash.” Twyler clicked his teeth together repeatedly. “So I fired first, paid off the other players, and pocketed the profit. Double the windfall when your old man started paying off people to not besmirch dear Edward's memory. And then you came after me, and I did more and more paying off of my own until I ran dry and needed a rich wife.” Twyler's eyes narrowed. “But here you are again, forcing my hand. With two skilled shooters against only myself, I can't hope to make it out alive. So I can either take revenge on Granger here, before leaving this earth, or hope your misguided sense of feminine kindness precludes you shooting a man in the back.”

With that, Twyler shoved Lacey so she fell downhill, and Jake had to catch her before running after his prey.

A shot echoed in the forest, followed by a terrible cry.