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upstairs.”
Upstairs.
“I would rather die,” Marydyth said as she struggled against him.
“Don’t be a fool, Marydyth,” he said tunelessly.
It was useless. She was no match for his superior strength. He dragged her up the stairs as if she weighed no more than eiderdown. Desperation folded over her as she searched the faces of the people in the lobby.
She knew it would do no good to scream for help.
Nobody in the town would lift a finger to help her, especially not when they found out that she had come from Yuma. And the way she looked, compared to the austere respectability of Flynn’s appearance, also worked against her. She was nothing more than an ex-convict fresh from Yuma. It showed in her face and in her clothing. The residents of Tombstone were accustomed to seeing those convicts when they came out of the territorial prison. Once again, public opinion was condemning her.
The feeling that choked and strangled her during her nightmares engulfed her. She tried to remember to breathe, to slow down the frantic pounding of her heart.
She had lived through hell for three years—she could stand whatever degrading thing Flynn O’Bannion had in mind.
He forced her down the hallway to the last door and dug into his Levi’s pocket for a key.
He twirled her through the door. The momentum sent her backward across the made-up bed. “I hate you,” she repeated.
“So you’ve said.” His voice was as dry and hard as the walls of Yuma.
Panic threatened to undo her when he turned the key and locked the door.
“Open that door this instant” She sat up and faced him down. “You bastard.”
Barely contained fury glowed in his brown eyes. “I wouldn’t make a habit of calling me that if I were you.” His voice was steady and low, belying the turbulent expression in his eyes.
“Just get it over with,” she said. “Take what you want and get out.”
Flynn took off his hat and tossed it hard upon the bureau. “Son of a.” He turned and glared at her. “Is that what you think? That I brought you up here to.rape you?”
Her chin came up a notch. Defiance glowed in her eyes. “What other possible reason?”
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“Well, if you are not going to rape me, then let me out of here. I want to get Rachel and put as much distance as I can between me and this damned territory.”
His eyes widened. He raked a long-fingered hand through his hair and muttered another epithet. “We need to talk.”
“There is nothing we need to talk about, Marshal. Everything you needed to say was said in the courtroom.”
The reminder of the trial sent a strange jab of guilt through him. “My name is Flynn, and I’m not a marshal anymore so I suggest you stop calling me that.”
“If you are not the law, then you have no right to keep me here. Open the damned door. I am a free woman.”
“I know.” He took two long steps toward the bed. “Damn it all, Marydyth, I know about your release-I arranged it”
Icy hands squeezed her chest. “I don’t believe you.”
“Suit yourself.”
With a vicious oath he turned and grabbed the straightbacked chair with one hand and spun it around backward. Then he hooked one leg over and straddled the seat, staring hard at her while he did it.
Her rapid intake of breath sent chills skittering over his arms. He didn’t want to fight with her. Flynn dragged in a deep breath and started again.
“The governor commuted your sentence. But that isn’t why I am here.” He had intended to tell her all the details of the letter and explain how everything had come about, but the look in her eyes changed his mind.
“I came here because of Rachel,” he said bluntly.
She drew herself up and stood stiff as a poker. “Rachel?” She twisted her fingers together in a way that made his insides cringe. “Is—is she all right? Noth—nothing has happened to her?”
Hellfire and damnation. Flynn saw her expression go from angry wildcat to helpless kitten in
Upstairs.
“I would rather die,” Marydyth said as she struggled against him.
“Don’t be a fool, Marydyth,” he said tunelessly.
It was useless. She was no match for his superior strength. He dragged her up the stairs as if she weighed no more than eiderdown. Desperation folded over her as she searched the faces of the people in the lobby.
She knew it would do no good to scream for help.
Nobody in the town would lift a finger to help her, especially not when they found out that she had come from Yuma. And the way she looked, compared to the austere respectability of Flynn’s appearance, also worked against her. She was nothing more than an ex-convict fresh from Yuma. It showed in her face and in her clothing. The residents of Tombstone were accustomed to seeing those convicts when they came out of the territorial prison. Once again, public opinion was condemning her.
The feeling that choked and strangled her during her nightmares engulfed her. She tried to remember to breathe, to slow down the frantic pounding of her heart.
She had lived through hell for three years—she could stand whatever degrading thing Flynn O’Bannion had in mind.
He forced her down the hallway to the last door and dug into his Levi’s pocket for a key.
He twirled her through the door. The momentum sent her backward across the made-up bed. “I hate you,” she repeated.
“So you’ve said.” His voice was as dry and hard as the walls of Yuma.
Panic threatened to undo her when he turned the key and locked the door.
“Open that door this instant” She sat up and faced him down. “You bastard.”
Barely contained fury glowed in his brown eyes. “I wouldn’t make a habit of calling me that if I were you.” His voice was steady and low, belying the turbulent expression in his eyes.
“Just get it over with,” she said. “Take what you want and get out.”
Flynn took off his hat and tossed it hard upon the bureau. “Son of a.” He turned and glared at her. “Is that what you think? That I brought you up here to.rape you?”
Her chin came up a notch. Defiance glowed in her eyes. “What other possible reason?”
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“Well, if you are not going to rape me, then let me out of here. I want to get Rachel and put as much distance as I can between me and this damned territory.”
His eyes widened. He raked a long-fingered hand through his hair and muttered another epithet. “We need to talk.”
“There is nothing we need to talk about, Marshal. Everything you needed to say was said in the courtroom.”
The reminder of the trial sent a strange jab of guilt through him. “My name is Flynn, and I’m not a marshal anymore so I suggest you stop calling me that.”
“If you are not the law, then you have no right to keep me here. Open the damned door. I am a free woman.”
“I know.” He took two long steps toward the bed. “Damn it all, Marydyth, I know about your release-I arranged it”
Icy hands squeezed her chest. “I don’t believe you.”
“Suit yourself.”
With a vicious oath he turned and grabbed the straightbacked chair with one hand and spun it around backward. Then he hooked one leg over and straddled the seat, staring hard at her while he did it.
Her rapid intake of breath sent chills skittering over his arms. He didn’t want to fight with her. Flynn dragged in a deep breath and started again.
“The governor commuted your sentence. But that isn’t why I am here.” He had intended to tell her all the details of the letter and explain how everything had come about, but the look in her eyes changed his mind.
“I came here because of Rachel,” he said bluntly.
She drew herself up and stood stiff as a poker. “Rachel?” She twisted her fingers together in a way that made his insides cringe. “Is—is she all right? Noth—nothing has happened to her?”
Hellfire and damnation. Flynn saw her expression go from angry wildcat to helpless kitten in
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