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Killian stood as still as a statue, watching her, his gun still trained on the teller. She could almost see the thoughts in his head; he was wondering how she knew so much, how much of a danger she presented.
Suddenly he grabbed her by the back of the neck.
"Ouch," she squeaked, trying to wrench free.
He yanked her backward, his fingers pinching into the tender flesh of her nape.
"Nobody move," he said to the people sprawled on the floor. "We got a lookout waitin' across the street. You can't see him, but he can damn sure see you. He's gonna shoot the first person who comes out of these doors."
Killian curled his arm around her shoulders, pinned her against his massive chest. Lainie tried to wrestle free, but his arm was like a cold steel weight against her flesh as he dragged her out. She kicked at him, clawed at him, struggled to be free. "When I do the rewrite, I'm going to kill you here, Killian. In the middle of the lobby. It's going to be bloody, too. Painful?"
He clamped a hot, gloved hand over her mouth. She sucked in a gasping breath and clawed at his arm.
They burst through the closed door and backed into the hot sunlight. Skeeter hurriedly handed each man a set of reins. Purty and Mose jumped up onto their mounts.
The street was empty, deserted.
Lainie felt a surge of irritation. Where in the hell was Joe Martin? He should be coming around the corner now, guns drawn, silver marshal's star glinting in the sunlight.
She couldn't wait to see him. His appearance in this dream would be a hell of an improvement. A cross be-
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tween Mel Gibson and Daniel Day-Lewis, he was every woman's ideal hero. A heart-stoppingly handsome man with a needy heart and a sense of humor. Her and Joe in the desert, alone ... Now, that would be a dream.
Killian dragged her toward the horses, then tossed her over his shoulder. She hit his back so hard, it drove the air from her lungs. She gasped and slammed her fists into his back. "What are you doing?"
"Shut up, lady."
He flung her onto a saddle and pinned her in place with an unforgiving grip.
Skeeter frowned. "Hey, boss, that's my horse."
"You can have him," Lainie said. "If you'll just tell Tarzan here to let go of me ..."
Skeeter blinked up at her. "Huh?"
Lainie groaned. "I must have written better dialogue for you, Skeeter."
"Shut up, lady," Killian snapped. "Skeet, you ride behind Purty. We'll get you a fresh horse at the change."
He shrugged. "Okay."
"Shut up?" Lainie's temper snapped. She hated it when a man told her to shut up. "Now, look here, you arrogant bastard?"
Killian silenced her with a thundercloud of a look. "You don't seem to understand your situation, lady. I could shoot you."
"Go ahead if it would make you feel better. Jesus, I can't imagine why I created such a macho pig ... even for a villain."
He grabbed her reins and vaulted into his own saddle. Pulling her horse close, he leaned toward her. "You give me one second's worth of problems, and I'll shoot you."
"Blah, blah, blah."
He looped the reins around his saddle horn and kicked his horse. The stallion lurched forwar
d, dragging
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