“You take me for a fool? The minute I hand her over, I’m dead.”
Halverson’s lips barely moved when he spoke. “You’re dead anyway.”
A sharp shake of his head slung drenched hair off Daniel’s face. The saltwater sting in his eyes became more unbearable by the second. He cleared his vision with a hard blink.
At the wrong time.
A hot slash seared his shoulder and spun him sideways, ripping a skin-grating cry from his throat.
As he fell, he flung Honey into the marshal’s arms, protecting her in the only way that remained.
Better Halverson thought her a kidnap victim than a woman trying to escape.
Chapter Eight
Winnie cracked open the alley door, stuck her head through the gap, and peeked into the dimness in both directions.
Not a soul in sight.
She slipped outside and ran to the jail’s window. The kitchen stool bumped her thigh with each whisk of her slippers.
Smelly dust swirled upward as she scraped the booster into place against the wall. Scrunching her skirt into a blue-gingham knot, she climbed atop the stool and peered into the cell.
The palm she clapped to her lips failed to stifle a gasp.
On the opposite side of the dingy space, head resting on bent knees, the prisoner slumped on the floor like a discarded rag doll. Arms pinned to the iron behind his back kept him from collapsing. Manacles encircled his ankles. Dried blood added an extra layer of grime to a shirt hanging in shreds, and a red trickle still oozed from the gash where Roy’s bullet had removed a chunk of flesh from his shoulder.
She glanced toward the open end of the alley once more, and then called to him in a whisper. “Mister Farrow.”
He didn’t respond; didn’t even twitch.
Adding a hiss to her tone, she tried again. “Mister Farrow.”
With a groan, he straightened and rested the back of his head against the bars. “Honey?” Relief wound into the room with his broken breath. “Thank God you’re safe.”
Dear Lord. What kind of monster had Roy become? Bruises and scrapes marred every inch of what had been chiseled features. The outlaw would never be able to deliver a flirtatious wink with both eyes swollen shut. “Is Roy—”
“He left some time ago. Took the keys with him.”
“How badly are you hurt?”
“Nothing that won’t heal.” A moan abbreviated his chuckle. “Or wouldn’t, if it had time.”
His tight voice, the gaps between his words, testified to exhaustion and pain. But not even they could dispel sardonic wit and a seductive tone.
“How’s Henry?” she asked.
The prisoner rolled his head to the left, though she doubted he could see into the second cell. “Don’t know. Haven’t been able to rouse him.”
“I’m going to get both of you out of there.”
“Don’t. That kidnapping story will only work once.”
“I’ve devised another plan.”
“Use it to get yourself and Henry out of town.” He paused to catch a wheezing breath. “As long as the marshal has me—”
“I won’t leave you here alone.”
“Then talk to me for a little while. I’ve always had a powerful fondness for honey.”
Honey. She bit back a sob. Coming from Roy or anyone else, the term of endearment never failed to rankle. But slipping between the outlaw’s cracked lips, the word wrapped her in velvet.
She couldn’t let him die tomorrow morning.
****
Standing hipshot, too relaxed, Roy spoke with Captain Dunleavy in the middle of the street. The polished butt of his revolver glistened in the twilight.
The ring of keys hanging from his gun belt rattled as both men turned to face her approach.
“Winnie, you should be resting.” Roy’s solicitous tone jittered along her nerves.
Rubbing her temple, she drew a wan smile across her lips. “I’m much recovered, thank you.”
“Listen to the marshal, Mrs. Edmonds.” Concern etched the officer’s expression. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. A woman’s delicate constitution—”
She swooned toward Roy. Thank goodness he caught her before she carried the ruse all the way to the ground. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Roy snugged her against his side. “Let’s get you home.”
She didn’t have to fake the shudders rippling through her as he escorted her into the café. Pressing a palm to her midsection, she thinned her voice. “I think I need to eat. The coffee I drank a bit ago seems to have unsettled my stomach.”
Roy eased her into a kitchen chair, lit a lamp, and retrieved the plate of yesterday’s biscuits from the sideboard. He sat beside her and smeared one of the disks with honey from the jar on the table. “You need to rest and regain your strength so we can leave tomorrow.”
He set the treat in her hand and laid a caress on her cheek. Her skin crawled away from his touch.
She plucked a morsel from the biscuit while he slathered golden goo on one for himself. A dollop dripped onto the floor.