Desperate Hearts
years, and I
thought I’d seen the last of him. A year ago, he came back. Like a
bad penny.”
    “ Stepbrother? And you
wanted to hire me to kill him?” This situation was getting worse
and worse with every fragment of information she revealed. Jace
shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I’m not getting involved in some
family squabble over land ownership. You need a lawyer, not me. Our
deal is off, lady.”
    “ Damn it,” she cursed,
sounding more like Kyle again, “my name is not ‘kid,’ and it isn’t ‘lady’! And
this has nothing to do with land rights or a family squabble. Tom
Hardesty is not my family. This is about murder and thievery. I
don’t need a lawyer or a nursemaid. I need someone who can help me
get my home back. Hank sent me to find you because he said you were
that man. He said maybe you’ve had a change of heart since the
Bluebird Saloon. I suppose he could have been wrong.”
    Jace stiffened and he felt his face heat.
The Bluebird Saloon—God, he had very nearly put that night out of
his head. Five years had passed since then, and he’d finally
stopped thinking about it, dreaming about it. He’d almost forgotten
that woman who had begged him to help her and her little girl.
Didn’t want to get involved, he’d told her. . . .
    “ What did he tell you about
that?” he demanded, wary now. He would not have expected Hank to
turn gossipy like an old lady. And Kyla Springer Bailey made him
very uncomfortable. She knew things that he did not, and things
that she shouldn’t. He was unaccustomed to having so little control
over a situation.
    “ Nothing. He didn’t tell me
the story. He just said that you let someone down.”
    Jace frowned. Huh, yeah, he had let someone
down. The results had been disastrous. And even from his grave,
Hank was reminding him of it. He let his gaze drift over Kyla
again. Maybe she was his chance to finally make things right.
    There was a lot more about all of this that
he wanted to know, but he couldn’t question her anymore tonight.
She had had a really lousy day, one that would have been hard for a
man. But for a woman, trying to maintain a disguise while
confronting a drunk in a gunfight and getting shot—Jace had to
admit again that she had a lot of grit. A hell of a lot,
considering the events that had led to this afternoon.
    Right now, though, she was too tired and in
too much pain to keep talking. In fact, he was worn out
himself.
    “ Drink that broth and get
some rest,” he said shortly. “If Hardesty has his people following
us, we’ll have to backtrack a little before we ride to Misfortune.
I want to get an early start.” He stood up to open his bedroll on
the other side of the fire.
    “ Does that mean that you’re
going to help me?” she asked, tipping her face up at
him.
    “ Looks like it.”
    “ That’s not much of an
answer. How do I know you won’t change your mind? You could
probably hand me over to Hardesty and make more money than I can
pay you.”
    He frowned at her. “Not everything is about
money.”
    “ Every man has his
price—sometimes it’s too high.”
    “ I guess you’ll just have
to take my word for it. I’ll help you.”
    She eyed him. “For sure?”
    The hope and fatigue in her voice committed
him to see this through. Although he still thought it was probably
a bad decision, he was in for the long ride. He considered her
eyes—blue-green, they were like turquoise, even in the
firelight.
    “ Yeah, for
sure.”
    * * *
    The night was an endless, rainy darkness of
pain and worry. Kyla’s sleep was fitful and shallow, despite her
exhaustion. Oh, to be back in her own bed, clean, warm, and safe
with the nightmares behind her. Instead she was unwashed and cold,
wounded, sleeping in the damp.
    Hardesty had to pay, she vowed darkly—for
this, for Hank, for every filthy innuendo and sly look, for making
her feel dirty. He might not have pulled the trigger himself this
time, but he was just as guilty as McIntyre. That

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