Page 66 of West Wind

He’d known all along. All this time he’d been taking her to San Francisco not because he felt responsible for her, not because he cared for her, but for the money.

He was a bounty hunter, like the despicable Beans and that horrible Riley. He killed people for a living. No wonder he’d been so adept when they were attacked. No wonder he’d been carrying so much cash in his pocket.

Her life had been a sheltered one, particularly since her parents’ deaths. She’d never understood men at all, not until she’d met Henri. He’d been so sweet, so undemanding. They liked the same music, the same foods, autumn better than spring.

It was no wonder she’d fallen for a man like Shelley, who made her feel safe, and grinned assuredly, and ignited her newfound passion. All along he’d been using her, playing with her fragile emotions. She wished he’d simply shot her and thrown her body over the mare. It would have been less painful.

She stared at his stiff back. This was the real Shelley. All his good humor, his tenderness, his feigned desire for her… gone. He was a good actor; he belonged on the stage.

To think she’d once felt comfort in the simple sound of his heartbeat, had ached for his touch is if he were the only man alive. Well, he wasn’t. He was a despicable creature, no better than Beans or Riley.

She’d let him lead her to San Francisco. He could turn her over to the police and collect his reward. She didn’t care. She’d make her way to Nicky, as she’d planned all along. Why else would she go to San Francisco, but to ask her uncle for help? He was the one man in the world she could trust.

And Shelley could go to the devil.

He purposely traveled at a monotonous pace, never turning to check on Annie. When he found a suitable campsite late in the afternoon, he silently tethered his horse and waited for her to do the same. He built a fire, started their dinner, tended the animals. All the while he stayed silent, as he tried not to look at her. That was damn hard to do.

She sat away from the fire, her knees drawn to her chest. When he approached her with a plate of beans, she shook her head silently.

“You gotta eat,” he said in a low, gruff voice.

“No, I don’t.” She refused with stubborn dignity.

Why hadn’t he seen it before? Spoiled, pampered, rich little girl… “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

She looked up at him then, her dark eyes flashing, her full lips pursed. “Why? If I get too weak to keep up with you, you can shoot me and truss me to the back of my mare and take me in. Dead or alive, remember?”

“Jesus!” He flung the tin plate toward the fire. Beans exploded upward when Annie’s dinner hit the ground. “I’m not taking you in for the damned bounty.”

“Why should I believe you?” She rested her head on her knees and looked into her lap. “You lied to me. You knew all along⁠—”

He grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. “If we’re going to talk about lying here, let’s start with you, Widow Brown. Annie. Miss St. Clair. I never lied to you.”

His fingers dug into her arm; he all but growled down at her. Still, she lifted her face and looked up at him with bravery. She was not afraid. Where was the timid creature he’d rescued from Oscar’s place?

“You’re a bounty hunter,” she said calmly. “You kill people and turn in their bodies for money.”

“I hunt down killers and thieves,” he responded icily. “When they cooperate, I take them in alive. When they don’t...”

“Is that a threat?” she asked emotionlessly.

He wouldn’t answer that.

“You might’ve told me.” Her voice softened just a little. Her eyes were no longer quite so hard.

And have you look at me the way you looked at Beans? He kept that thought to himself. “You never asked.”

He dropped her arm and returned to the fire. “I won’t force-feed you, but at least try to get a little sleep.”

He sat at the fire with his back to her, sipping coffee and ignoring her presence as best he could. He felt like a fool, and was still angry. So, so angry. He should’ve known from the moment he saw her wanted poster that she was Annabelle St. Clair. Poor resemblance or not, there were too many coincidences to ignore. He’d chosen to ignore them anyway. Because he wanted to? Because he preferred to think of her as a helpless woman running away from overbearing relatives or a relentless suitor?

She’d gotten under his skin, just as she’d planned, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to turn her in when the time came. Her innocence, her passion, it was all an act to capture his loyalty, his unwavering allegiance. His heart.

He’d fulfill his end of the agreement. He’d put her on the ferry and turn his back on her forever.

Wendell lay motionless on his stomach, waiting, waiting… He’d planned to attack after they were asleep, but his heart raced with excitement. Finally! His victims were almost as helpless now as they would be once sound asleep, so why wait?

They’d been fighting. He couldn’t hear their words but the stiff way Shelley stood, the way he’d turned his back on his prisoner… it was clear. The argument done they both sat silently sulking, with no knowledge of the danger that awaited them.