Beauty and the Bounty Hunter (21 page)

“I thought—” he began. “You draped the chain over—” He stopped.

Cat tilted her head. “You followed me?”

He released an impatient huff as he shoved the ring into his pocket. “You know damn well I followed you. Otherwise you wouldn’t have pulled that dodge with Ruby and Ben. You’re lucky I didn’t kill him.”

“Kill him?” Cat repeated. “Why?”

“He had his hands all over your ass.”

“Wasn’t my ass. And since when do you care who has their hands on my anything?”

“Wish I knew,” he muttered.

Cat went silent. She hadn’t felt anyone following her until she’d gone
into
Rock River. Of course, she’d been a little…

Crazy.

If Alexi had found the ring, then he’d found Billy. That should upset her more than it did.

“What did Ben tell you?”

“Nothing.” She let out a breath. “However, Ruby was quite chatty.”

“She told you?”

Alexi’s gaze searched hers. “Yes.”

Well, that explained what was wrong. Why he seemed different. Why he was looking at her…like that.

“She’s dead.” The words startled her. Cat hadn’t meant to say them.

Alexi’s brow creased. “Ruby?”

“Cathleen.”

Silence descended, so sudden and still she could hear people talking on the street below despite the closed window.

Alexi crossed to her, sat in the chair, took her hand. “If that’s what you wanted everyone to believe, they do. Although, in my opinion, to make the story ring completely true, you should have dug another grave and added your name.”

“Her name.” The more she thought about this, the more she believed it. Cathleen was as dead as Billy.

Alexi frowned. “
Bébé,
you
are Cathleen.”

“No. I’m Cat.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go, so she gave up and moved on. “Cat O’Banyon would never allow anyone to kill someone she loved while she just—” Her throat closed. She tried to swallow and choked instead. By the time she stopped, the pain, both inside and out, was excruciating.

Alexi tightened his hand around hers. “She just what?”

“Stood there.”

“What should she have done?”

“Cat O’Banyon would have stuck a knife into the belly of anyone who threatened her or hers and twisted.”

“Ah,” he said.

This time when she pulled her hand from his, he released her. “What the hell does ‘ah’ mean?”

“I understand better than most the need to become another. To bury the past along with who you were, to create a new life completely different from it, and forget, or try to, the person who came before.”

Maybe he did, but—

“You’re awake.” Dr. Walsh stood in the doorway. As soon as Alexi saw him, he retreated to the window.

Cat was glad to end the conversation. They’d skirted too close to things she didn’t want to share. Then again, having Alexi know the truth—or some of it—felt better than it should.

The doctor moved into the room. She didn’t like him now any better than she had earlier. But she was beholden to him.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said.

He lifted a brow. “You don’t sound very thankful.”

“I don’t like owing people.”

“You don’t owe me.”

“Because you took an oath?”

“That and—” He lifted his gaze to Alexi, and she knew.

“You owe him.”

“Not anymore.” The doctor scratched his forearm. From the marks there, he’d been scratching a lot. He’d nearly torn a hole in himself.

Walsh saw her watching him and stopped. He sat in the chair Alexi had vacated and set his hand to Cat’s forehead. His skin was clammy and cool. She recoiled. “Are you ill?”

“No.” He wiped his palms on his pants. “Your fever’s broken. I need to check your wound.” She nodded her
permission, and he removed the bandage, leaned in close and sniffed.

The sight of his dark head so near her breast brought the urge to lash out, but he was moving away just as quickly as he’d moved in. “No smell of suppuration,” he said briskly. “No pus, no ooze. Slight redness, but that’s to be expected. You’re going to have quite a scar though.”

She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t when the pain caused her to see stars. “I’ve got worse.”

Walsh frowned. “No, you—” He stopped, realizing it wasn’t polite to reveal he’d seen her naked and, except for her shoulder, there hadn’t been a mark on her. “I’ll fetch a fresh bandage.”

He left the room. Both Cat and Alexi watched him go.

“What’s the matter with him?” she asked.

Alexi frowned, gaze still on the doorway through which the doctor had disappeared. “Hard to say.”

E
than never returned with the bandage. When Cat drifted off to sleep, Alexi went after him.

He found the doctor tearing apart the surgery. Everything that had once been in the cabinets was now not. Ethan rubbed his arms as if he were freezing, despite the already steamy heat of the day. Both his nose and his eyes wept, and he appeared possessed by a frequent urge to yawn.

“Looking for this?” Alexi held the container of laudanum he’d snatched the night before between two fingers.

Ethan’s gaze fastened on the bottle. “Give it back.”

“Cat might need it.”

“Cat?”

Alexi resisted the urge to curse.
Cat
was supposed to be dead.

“Cathy,” he corrected. “The woman upstairs. The one who’s actually in pain.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked to Alexi’s, then back to the bottle. “You know nothing about pain.”

Considering what he knew of the doctor’s past and what he’d seen in that second bedroom, Alexi thought the man was probably right. He still wasn’t going to give him the bottle.

“You need to stop.” Alexi returned the container to his pocket.

“You need to die,” Ethan muttered.

Alexi shouldn’t have come here. But for her…

He’d face every demon that he had.

“I’ll get more.” The doctor began to return things to the cabinets.

Alexi began to help him. “I know.”

“I want to die,” Ethan admitted.

“I know that too.”

Cat awoke only long enough to determine that Alexi was wrapping her shoulder with carbolic-acid-scented bandages and helping her into a nightdress before falling asleep again.

She surfaced on and off, usually because Alexi was urging her to drink, to eat. Cool cloths bathed her face and neck. She could have sworn the sky went from dark to light and dark again several times. When she was finally able to open her eyes and keep them open, the room was going gray, and someone stood at the window.

“You don’t have to stay here every minute,” she murmured.

The figure turned, and the fading sunlight cast across his chest, sparking off the star.

Not Alexi. The sheriff.

Cat tried to sit up and was thrilled when she managed it. Certainly there was pain, but she didn’t faint. A definite improvement. “Is there a problem?”

He sat in the chair, gaze far too intent on her face. “That depends.”

Cat glanced at the door. She didn’t like this at all. “Where’s…?” Her voice drifted off. She had no idea
who Alexi had said they were. She didn’t want to make a mistake.

“Where’s…?” he repeated.

“The doctor,” she finished. Better to be safe than wrong.

“Rode out to help some other poor soul.” The sheriff’s gaze remained on hers.

Recognition flickered. “Have we met?”

His mouth curved. “Have we?”

Cat waited. An old lawman’s trick—silence made folks want to fill it. They often filled it with information.

The sheriff broke first. Some lawman.

“I shouldn’t tease.” His smirk broke free. What did he know that she didn’t? “I was outside my office when your husband brought you in.”

Husband. Right. But what were their
names?
She searched for a memory that contained this man.

Something flickered again. Just out of reach. “Is my husband downstairs?”

“No.” The continuation of that smile made Cat long for her guns. “Saw him walkin’ to the stable with that big friend of his.”

Cat frowned. Mikhail had not only arrived but been seen and noticed.

“Not a soul here but you and me,” the sheriff murmured.

Her unease deepened. “Well, it was nice of you to visit, but as you can see, I’m not at my best.”

“I see a lot.” He leaned closer. “Cat.”

She blinked. Had Alexi given Cat as her name? She couldn’t believe he would have. Not that there weren’t other women nicknamed Cat in Kansas, but so close to the death of Cat O’Banyon in a shoot-out…

“I see you were shot,” he continued, gaze lowering. He licked his lips. “Not sick like he said.”

“I am sick.”

“What you are…” His eyes met hers again as he drew his gun. “
Who
you are is Cat O’Banyon, and there’s one helluva bounty on you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pulled the blanket to her chin.

He yanked it down. “Keep yer hands where I can see ’em.”

“I don’t know what you want.” She tried to make her voice waver, managed it with ease. “I’m not the person you think I am.”

He laughed. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“I don’t remember much from when I was feverish.”

“I don’t mean now. I’m talkin’ about last year.”

“Last year?” She didn’t even have to try to sound confused about that.

“In Houston.”

Had she been in Houston last year? Maybe. There’d been so many places, so many men.

But that was Cat, and she was dead. What about…whoever the hell she was supposed to be? Had that woman been in Houston? Of course not. That woman hadn’t existed before this week.

“I’ve never been in Houston, Sheriff. You have me confused with someone else.”

“I never forget a…” His gaze lowered to her breasts again. “Face.”

Hell. What had she done in Houston? How could he know about it? She never told lawmen the details of how she landed her bounties. She danced too close to the other side of the law for that.

Then again, none had ever asked. Most—
all
—didn’t care how she captured the outlaws as long as she captured them.

The sheriff still stared at her breasts. Cat lifted her chin. “You’re bordering on insulting, sir.”

“Oh, I passed that border long time ago,
ma’am.
” He sneered the last word. “Or maybe you passed it back in Houston when you promised to fuck me if I came to your room.”

Hmm. That did sound like her. But not with a—

He took off his wide-brimmed, sweat-stained sheriff’s hat, revealing a pate as bald as a baby’s, and she remembered. He wasn’t a lawman; he was a—

“Bastard,” she spat.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten me.”

“Rufus,” she said slowly. “Rufus Owens.”

He set his hat back on his head with a nod.

“How did you get a job as a sheriff?” As she recalled, he had a bad habit of killing them.

“You think you’re the only one who can change names and become someone else? It’s easy enough.”

Cat remained silent again. Again he kept talking.

“Ran into a fellow one night. He shared his food and his fire. Told me all about the new job he’d just taken in Freedom. Sounded good to me. Was sick of lookin’ over my shoulder.”

From the glare he cast at Cat, he’d been looking over his shoulder for her.

Good.

Although if she hadn’t gotten sloppy, he would be dead and they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Very few men had gotten away from her, but Rufus Owens had been one of them. She had a feeling she was going to be sorrier about that now than she’d been when it had happened.

Once he said
You or her?
and proved he was not her man, Cat would have dragged Rufus in and collected his bounty. However, he’d stumbled on the whorehouse
stairs and taken her to the bottom with him. By the time she regained her feet, and her bearings, he was gone. She’d intended to recapture him, but there was another promising bounty and then another and then…

Cat tightened her lips. She’d forgotten. Served her right that he’d turn up here. Her mama always said: “Clean up your mess or someone’s bound to slip in it.” Right now, Cat felt as if she’d not only slipped, but also landed on her ass in a large, smelly pile of—

“Shit,” she muttered. “So you killed the Freedom sheriff-to-be and stole not only his life, but his name and his job.”

“It’s not like I ain’t been doin’ the job. I caught you.”

“I’m not wanted.”

The sheriff shrugged. “You can tell it to the man with the money. I don’t think he’ll believe you any more than I do.”

Cat didn’t think so either.

“Now.” Rufus, gaze again on her breasts, moved close enough that she could smell his rancid breath. “How about that poke you promised me in Houston?”

She’d been contemplating poking him in the eyes and making a break for it. His words caused her to stop contemplating and do it.

Alexi had just started up the stairs when gunfire broke out. He drew his own weapon and ran the rest of the way, slamming into Cat as she skidded from the bedroom.

“Ouch!” She winced, reached for her bad shoulder, then as several more bullets smashed into the wall across from the open door—whoever was shooting had to be the worst shot ever—shoved him. “Run.”

But Alexi had counted five shots. There might be a sixth bullet in the gun, but most men kept the hammer down on an empty chamber, not only for safety but as a
matter of pride. If you couldn’t hit what you were shooting at with five shots, you shouldn’t be shooting at all.

He stepped into the room, easily shrugging off Cat’s still-weak attempts to stop him. “Drop the gun.”

The man, who’d just begun to reload, lifted his gaze. One eye was squeezed shut; the other was watering so badly he could barely focus. No wonder he hadn’t been able to hit anything.

“The
sheriff
is shooting at you?” Alexi asked, exasperated.

“He’s not the sheriff.”

“She’s not your wife.”

Alexi lifted a brow. “No?”

“She’s Cat O’Banyon.”

Alexi sighed. “What did you do?”

“Me? I was lying here and he—he—”

Alexi frowned. It wasn’t like Cat to stutter. The hand she pointed at the sheriff, who still hadn’t dropped the gun, shook a bit. Alexi cocked his own. The sheriff dropped it.