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Lainie's horse with him. Lainie snapped backward like a rag doll.

They were off, galloping hard.

"G-Good getaway," she hissed between painful bounces. "I'm sure no one in town noticed."

"Shut up."

Lainie watched through blurry, dust-clogged eyes as the town sped past. Where in the hell was Joe?

"Only me. Only / could create a hero who shows up too late." She shook her head, hanging on for dear life. "You'd think I was dating the man."

Chapter Three

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They reached the change point in under an hour. Killian glanced backward out of habit, but he knew there wouldn't be a posse today?if you could call a bunch of pansy-assed merchants on fat horses a posse. He'd been robbing banks long enough to read the signs, and today they'd been crystal-clear. The town had been dead quiet, and as soon as the good ol' boys in town heard Killian's name, they'd forget about getting their money back. It was one of the benefits of a bad reputation in the West. Only men with a death wish dared to follow an outlaw to his hideout.

Up ahead, four fresh horses were tethered to a tree. Killian frowned. The moment's relief he'd felt at seeing the quiet expanse of desert behind him vanished.

Just what he goddamn needed .. . four horses and five riders.

He jerked on the reins and leaned back in the saddle, bringing his stallion to a skidding halt. The horse he was leading immediately rammed into them.

The woman made a wheezing grunt of a sound at the impact. "Goddamn it," she snapped, straightening enough to glare at him. "Aren't you supposed to signal?"

The other horses slid to a dusty stop alongside them. 27

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Purty and Mose leapt to the ground and started uncinching their saddles.

Skeeter jumped from his seat behind Purty and glanced back toward town. Sweat ran in dirty rivulets down his wrinkled cheeks, darkened the pale blue fabric of his collar. "You think there's a posse followin' us, boss?"

Mose laughed throatily. "Not from that half-assed, backwater nothin' of a town."

"Fortune Flats is not a backwater town," the woman said with an uppity snort.

Killian wrenched her off the horse, clamping an arm around her before she could run. Holding her tightly against him, he removed her saddle and dropped it on the dusty ground.

She squealed and kicked out. The tip of her boot slammed into his shin, sending a spark of pain up his leg. "You a?"

He slapped a hand across her mouth and tightened his grip. Her eyes narrowed. Squishing her against his side so tightly she couldn't move, he turned to the men. "We'd best split up, just in case some tinhorn gets a hair up his ass to follow. Skeeter, you take the back way to the ranch; Purty, you and Mose head out toward the canyon. We'll meet up at the ridge in a few days to split the cash."

Mose gazed down at the woman, his eyes slitted and black against his tanned, mustached face. "You want me to kill her, boss?"

"We ain't killers, Mose," Purty said reasonably, tipping his hat back and scratching the dampness from his brow. " 'Sides, we could use a woman up at the hideout."

Mose studied the captive, his speculative gaze moving slowly down her body. "I like my pieces a little skinnier."

She stuck out her arm and flipped up the middle finger of her right hand.

Mose surged toward her. "Why you?"

Killian stopped the other man with a sharp look and pulled her tighter against him. "That an invitation, little lady?"

"Not hardly, asshole."

He spun her around to face him. Her head snapped back. She glared up at him through furious, gray-green eyes. "Get your hands off me, you pig."

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