The Fortune (16 page)

She kissed him hard and quick, then stepped away. She did not want to give Callahan a show. “More later.”

He shook his head and hugged her. The day could not possibly get any stranger. At least John was still with her, a steady presence she could count on.
 

John was about to jump out of his skin. Blue, the good horse he was, stayed by the window in the jail, his gentle whuffles the only sign he remained. If the dog had brought the horse to them, he might have to change his opinion of the damn mutt. They were both smart animals, and with their help he and Frankie might just get out of jail. He had to get them out of there somehow.
 

Frankie
.

The woman was under his skin. The fact was, he could hardly control his urges around her. When she’d kissed him earlier, he’d nearly slammed her up against the sod wall and buried himself inside her. Hell, he was hard just thinking about kissing her.

She distracted him. He had never been so out of sorts before. Between being aroused, annoyed, amused and intrigued, she elicited emotions he hadn’t known he was capable of. What it meant, he wasn’t ready to think about.

John had left behind all commitments, and any family ties, years ago. He wasn’t ready to knot himself into a relationship he didn’t want or need. His goal was still to buy his land and settle there for good. Veronica’s machinations might ruin his plans, but the situation with Frankie was the true threat.

Frankie had sacrificed everything for those she loved. There was no comparison between the women. One was amazing, the other all icing and no cake, regardless of the situation Veronica was in. Of course, he was engaged to Veronica, and his future—the ranch—depended on finishing the wagon train job and his full pay. Buck knew who buttered his bread, and rich people like Veronica’s Pa owned men like the wagon master.

It was an incredibly awkward and frustrating situation. Frankie was the kind of woman who would settle in a new place and make her way with her chin up and shoulders back. Veronica couldn’t possibly be happy living on a ranch without the finer things in life. There simply was no way he could marry her without earning more money, which meant another wagon train. He would have to give up his dream of a ranch for another year, much as it pained him to do so.
 

Frankie dozed on the cot, her long curls surrounding her head. Her lashes lay on her cheeks like tiny fans and her mouth was slightly open. Everything was blessedly quiet, at least for the time being.

Then she started snoring.

John held back a laugh with effort. She never stopped surprising him. Although her snoring was ladylike, she was definitely sawing some wood. He pressed his mouth into the crook of his elbow as a snort threatened. It wasn’t the time or place to act like a fool over a woman, but he was doing it anyway.

“Is that
her
?” Callahan spoke from his cell.

“It sure as hell isn’t me.” John kept his back turned to the other man.

“She sounds like a tiny bear.” Callahan sounded as amused as John was.

“Shut up. You are not allowed to talk about her, jackass. In fact, you’re not allowed to speak to her.” John’s amusement had faded in a snap. “You put her life in danger.”

“I was doing my job.” Callahan didn’t sound as firm as he had earlier. “I’m sure there are things you’ve done for your job you aren’t proud of.”

That was too close to the truth. “I don’t kidnap women.”

The other man was quiet for a minute. “I didn’t hurt her. She did all the damage. Pulled us off the damn horses.”

“Good. I’m glad she did. You deserved it.” John glanced at her, the sweet but fierce woman who snored softly. She had already tucked herself neatly into his heart. Damn.

“I know.” Callahan laughed without humor. “I didn’t know what Mr. Peck had done. I turn a blind eye because I have to.”

John turned, his anger bubbling up from his gut, burning his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything. You chose to. Don’t start pointing fingers at your boss because you don’t have the balls to do what’s right.”

Callahan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t judge me.”

“I ain’t judging you. I’m only saying what’s true. Why the hell would you think a lady like Frankie would be with a man like Peck? Because she liked him? And why would he send a hired gun like you after her?” John clenched the bars so hard, his knuckles hurt. “You will never touch her again.”

Fire licked at his heart, pure white-hot rage at what Frankie had been through. It wasn’t Callahan’s fault, but he was the convenient target. John hadn’t let himself lose control, not for three years, but what Peck did to Frankie pushed the self-control off the edge. He wanted to hurt someone, something, to ease the pain he felt for her.

Frankie had been the man’s prisoner for three days—long days, he’d bet. Somehow she had survived, and her heart and soul still beat with passion. Peck hadn’t destroyed her, thank God. But John wanted to destroy him.

“I don’t ask questions, boyo. Where I’m from, if you get a job for the Five Pointers, you do anything they ask. If you don’t, you die.” Callahan sat back on the cot his arms wide. “Would you have me die for a woman I never met? I didn’t know. I swear to you, Malloy, I didn’t know what he did.”

“What are the Five Pointers?”

“A gang, in Manhattan, in the neighborhood I grew up in. Peck runs it. Hell, he runs everyone.” The other man ran his hands through his thick black hair. “I turned a blind eye many times, Malloy. Too many times.”

John’s red haze began to fade and he finally heard what Callahan was saying, or rather what he
wasn’t
saying. He wouldn’t return Frankie to Peck. The big Irishman had changed his mind after hearing what she’d told John.
 

As his anger receded, he let go of the bars and stalked back to the window. The sound of Blue helped to calm him. He needed to get back his self-control before he did let it loose. Therein were dark times and he didn’t want to go there.

Very soon he would tie Blue’s reins to the bars and try to get the hell out of there. Now he had a choice to tell Callahan his plan or risk him trying to stop them or following them. John’s gut told him the Irishman had changed his mind about his path in life.
 

“I’m getting us out of here.” It was out before he could snatch the words back.

Callahan’s head snapped up. “What’s that you say?”

John reached through the bars to touch his horse. “These sod walls are no match for my mustang. I’m getting us out of here.” He met the other man’s gaze. “Are you with us?”

There was barely a moment’s hesitation. “You know I could take her as soon as your back is turned.”

“You won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?” Callahan cocked his head, his brows furrowed.

“Because I’ll kill you if you touch her. And it won’t be an easy death.” John bared his teeth, his anger and protectiveness rising up around him.

Callahan nodded. “I believe you. And aye, I’m with you.”

John didn’t trust the other man but he had to take a chance. “When we are out, you go north, we go south. We split up so they have to choose who to track. I’m taking my horse. You’ll have to find your own.”

“I can take care of myself, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried, Callahan.” John didn’t like the man. He’d be happy to be rid of him for good. “I’m letting you know how it will be out there.”

“Like I said, I can take of myself. I ain’t a child, Malloy.”

John ignored him in favor of waking his lady. He stopped, hand in midair over her cheek when he realized exactly what he had thought of Frankie.

His lady
.
 

Was she his? Or was he imagining what he wanted? No, it wasn’t either. A momentary burp in his brain, was all. Frankie was an amazing woman who drove him crazy, but a one-of-a-kind female. If there was one who would make his own plans seem inconsequential, it was Miss Chastain.

He touched her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the silky skin. Her eyes fluttered open and she focused on him, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. The happiness he saw in the depths of her eyes took his breath away. He stared at her, his body immediately on edge, needing, wanting her.

“John?”

He shook himself, unable to dispel the notion he wanted to see her every morning, just like this. Sweet, soft and smiling.

“It’s time.”

The happiness in her eyes faded to be replaced with a wariness and fear. He hated to be responsible for that, but it couldn’t be helped. The next couple of hours—hell, the next couple of days—were going to be harder than anything she’d ever experienced. That was saying a lot, considering her history with Oliver Peck.

She sat up and braided her hair with quick, precise motions, then twisted the braid into a knot on the back of her head. He was intrigued by how efficient she was. Within two minutes, she had straightened her clothes, tightened her laces and stood at the ready, her mouth set in a grim line.

He wanted to smile at the same time he wanted to be in any place besides a jail so he could kiss the hell out of her. She glanced at Callahan and raised her brows.

“He’s leaving too.”

“Is that wise?” She didn’t sound judgmental, only curious.

“Probably not, but there isn’t much of a choice.” John looked through the bars and noted the moon had indeed set. It was time. “Check to make sure the sheriff is asleep.”
 

Frankie walked silently to the bars and peered out. Time ticked past as the three of them stood unmoving. Finally, she stepped back and turned with a nod.

John whistled low for Blue and reached out the window for the horse’s bit, then tugged. The mustang obeyed, bringing his reins within reach. John took the leather in hand, thankful he never skimped on tack. He tied them around the bars as tight as he could.

“Okay, boy, pull.” He spoke in a harsh whisper, not daring to make too much noise. Blue pulled on the reins until they were taut. “That’s it. Harder.”

At first, nothing happened. John pushed at the bars at the same time Blue pulled. Frankie joined him, her small hands gripping the bars tight enough to make her knuckles white. John pushed hard, the rough metal biting into his hands until they were slick with sweat or blood.

“Move, dammit, move.” He clenched his teeth and pushed with every piece of him.

A bit of rock and dirt broke free, trickling down the wall. He met Frankie’s gaze and bared his teeth in triumph. She dug at the corner that was crumbling as John alternated pushing and punching the bars. Soon an entire side was free. They were almost there.

A little bit more and they’d be liberated. Frankie dug faster and John rattled the bars back and forth. Then suddenly the bars were gone, landing with a muffled thump outside. Frankie gasped and raised her hands in triumph.

That’s when he noticed she had dug until her fingers were raw and bloody. He wanted to yell at her for injuring herself but there was no time. They had to get out of there.
 

“Move.” He laced his hands together to give her a boost to escape. She stepped onto his hand and fit through the opening without a hitch.

John glanced at Callahan, who watched with an intense stare. “I’ll tie off the reins on the other side and yank. You push with all that muscle you got hanging on you.”

“Don’t leave me here, boyo.”

“I won’t.” John climbed through the opening, twisting his shoulders back and forth until he managed to fit. Small hands reached for him as he went headfirst toward the ground. She didn’t break his fall, but she did turn him sideways so he landed on his side instead of his head.

“Are you hurt?” she whispered in his ear, her voice shaky and tense.

“I’m fine. Let’s get Callahan out of there.”

“Are you certain we should free him?” Her face was no more than a white oval in the dark.

“I gave him my word.”

She didn’t ask any more questions, but squatted down to unknot the reins from the bars. By the time he had gotten to his feet, she was leading the horse over to the bars. Most women would be a blubbering mess of foolish right about then, but not Frankie Chastain. She did what had to be done without complaint and with bigger balls than most men.

John patted Blue’s neck. “One more time, boy, one more time.” They had only moments before someone heard or saw them. There was no time to waste.

He quickly tied off the reins on the other barred window. This time, he pulled alongside his horse, and the work was easier. In less than a minute, the bars were free. He had doubts Callahan would fit through the small opening, so John dug away at the loose sod at the same time the Irishman did the same thing on the other side.

Watching the big man squeeze through the opening was probably funny, but all John could think of was the seconds ticking by. To his relief, Callahan tumbled down, but he brought half the wall with him. It was no small noise.

John untied Blue’s reins from the bars like a madman, each moment his last. He expected bullets to start flying and blood to flow.

“You’re on your own.” He tossed the words at Callahan as he jumped into the saddle and yanked Frankie up behind him. John kneed the mustang into motion and took off into the blackness of the night, the dog running behind them.