Page 54 of Taming Elijah


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She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Are you not in the least bit worried about facing Sullivan alone with Joshua?”

Elijah walked over to her, grabbed her hips and lifted. She squeaked and clung to him as he tumbled her to the bed twisting so she landed on his chest.

She gripped his shirt. “I am worried…scared. My staying on the ranch is not worth your blood.”

“It will not be my blood being spilt. It will be Sullivan’s and his men.”

“And will that not make him more furious?”

Elijah thought and everything he knew of the man. “No…he is a bully with power. I will strip him in front of the people whom he wants to revere him.”

She pulled away from him and sat on him. “You think he will just allow this?” she demanded incredulously.

“Do you want to leave, Sheridan?” he asked her quietly.

Shadows chased across her face. “No, but I could not live with myself if—”

He slid his hands up to her thighs and squeezed. “Trust me Sheridan.”

She leaned over him so there lips were scant inches apart. “I do trust you.”

“Good.” He claimed her lips in a deep kiss. They were soft and yielding to his kisses, and he allowed himself to be immersed in her taste, burying the flare of guilt. Her expressive eyes had warmed with love and trust and he felt like a worm, for he would leave and retreat back into the mountains as soon as he made sure she was safe.

***

Elijah and Joshua rode into Blue Lagoon just after sundown. The town itself seemed subdued, not bustling as a Tuesday evening was usually. It was as if the town’s people themselves waited. Elijah scanned the storefronts, and the lighted hotel at the end of the street. The only raucous laughter came from the Velvet Lady’s Saloon.

“I can kill him before anyone realizes what is happening,” Joshua murmured. “Avoid the potential fallout.”

Elijah said nothing. Sullivan was a vicious bully, and there was only one way to deal with such a man. A part of Elijah wished he could plant a bullet in him and be done with it. But Elijah had never been the type to kill in cold blood, no matter how much the bastard deserved it.

He glanced at the bank and then the livery near the saloon. “Where will you position yourself?”

Joshua looked toward the livery. “I will be able to cover the saloon and the streets from there. There will be blind spots. I can only see so much through the grimy windows. Ensure you watch your back,” he drawled.

“Try not to kill anyone,” Elijah ordered.

He ignored Joshua’s mocking gaze, dismounted and led his horse to the hitching post and loosely tied its reins onto it.

Elijah walked along the boardwalk instead of the street preparing for the fight. He would only kill Sullivan if he had no alternative. He stared at the sheriff’s office next door to the saloon. As if on cue, Vincent came to the door and leaned on its frame. He tipped his hat at Elijah and there was a knowing look on his face.

“What do you think Vincent will do?” Joshua asked, “He seems mighty calm for a man who knows his brother’s reckoning is on its way.”

“He is a fair man.”

Elijah felt Joshua’s gaze.

“A fair man who knew of the assault on Sheridan, but his jail cell is empty?”

Elijah heard his brother, but he also understood blind foolish loyalty. And that was what Vincent had for his brother Sullivan in spades. Sullivan was reputed to own the law in the town, but Elijah was sure he did not own his brother Vincent. And from their history Elijah knew Vincent to be an honorable man.

A few of the town’s folks tipped their hats to Elijah and he nodded in acknowledgement. Many glanced at the guns strapped to his hips, then retreated into their homes and businesses drawing the shutters. Yet many remained outside.

When Elijah reached the Velvet Lady he pushed open the double door and stepped in. Each of his senses were concentrated on the man that sat in the left corner of the saloon. Jericho Sullivan. Elijah heard a distant hoot and knew that Joshua was positioned outside on the roof of the livery. Watching and waiting.

The dancing females stumbled to a halt and peered at him in curiosity through the dim lighting. Laughter spiraled from some of Jericho’s cronies but was swiftly swallowed. Elijah stepped deeper into the smoky interiors and the silence spread as the patrons slowly noticed him. Dozens of eyes assessed him, noting the guns, and his demeanor.

The sandy haired killer rose to his feet at Elijah’s approach, but Sullivan remained slouched in his chair, a bottle of whiskey cradled in his palm. His eyes, though, stared at Elijah hard and vicious. Sullivan believed Elijah would be calling him out, forcing a gunfight. But that was the furthest thing from the truth.

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