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There was a bit of swelling at the edge of her mouth, and a trickle of blood. The bastard who had assaulted her must have struck her across the face.
Logan’s blood fired with rage, and his hands clenched involuntarily into fists. He cast a hateful gaze in the direction of the dead man.
The woman spoke in a trembling voice. “He tried to… but then the wolf…”
She had said “tried to.” Those words eased Logan’s rage slightly. If the dead man had actually succeeded in raping this woman, Logan would have had to figure out a way to resurrect the bastard, just so he could kill him a second time.
“I know,” he said, making his voice as gentle as possible. “Me and Tanner heard the first part, and we saw the second.”
“Was it you who shot the wolf?”
Logan nodded. “I only grazed it, just to scare it off. I didn’t want to kill it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill it.”
Suddenly, the woman’s features hardened, and she looked at Logan suspiciously.
“How did you get out here so quickly? I looked around a few minutes ago, and I didn’t see anyone for miles.”
Logan smiled slightly. “The desert ain’t as wide open as it seems, ma’am. There’s ways a rider can keep from being seen if he knows what he’s doing.”
“And whatwereyou doing?” she asked sharply. “Following me?”
“Ma’am, I’ll let Tanner answer that one, if you don’t mind. Here he comes now.” Logan gestured toward the side of the boulders, where Tanner was just now riding back into view.
As the woman turned her head to look, Logan was temporarily released from the hypnotic power of her turquoise eyes, and he noticed something about her that had not occurred to him before. Something very strange.
She had no scent. None at all.
CHAPTER 12
Shannon watched as Tanner McBain came riding back around the edge of the boulder. She did so partly out of curiosity and partly because it was easier than looking at the massive alpha who was standing right beside her. Logan Summerhill.
The problem wasn’t that Logan was ugly. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was every bit as handsome as his companion. But Shannon was a little confused. Last night in the theater, Tanner had said Logan was his brother. Yet the two men looked nothing alike.
Aside from the fact that they were both incredibly attractive alphas.
Tanner, with his flaxen hair and iron-gray eyes, clearly came from European stock—probably Scottish, judging from his family name. Logan, on the other hand, was obviously an Indian. His clothing and features made that clear, as did his voice, which carried the barest trace of an accent. It wasn’t a difference in the sounds so much as a difference in rhythm.
And his last name was Summerhill, not McBain. Maybe he and Tanner were half-brothers, then? Or maybe one of them had been adopted?
Well, whatever their exact relation was, one thing was abundantly clear:
The man named Logan Summerhill was definitely an alpha.
If the golden sign on his chest hadn’t already tipped Shannon off to that fact, his scent certainly would have—an odor of woodsmoke and leather seasoned by sun and sweat. It was a scent that made Shannon’s mouth water and her blood race a little faster in her veins. She did her best to ignore it, and tried to focus her attention on Tanner instead.
At least he was farther away, for the time being.
As the cowboy came around the boulder, Shannon saw that he was leading two other horses alongside him. One of them was the late Gilbert Blaylocke’s bay, and the other was Stormy. Shannon’s heart lifted when she saw that her beloved horse had not been harmed by the fleeing wolf.
McBain dismounted to retrieve Shannon’s duster from the bush where she’d hung it a few minutes ago. Then he picked up something off the ground nearby. It was Gilbert Blaylocke’s gunbelt and pistols. He stowed them in the bay’s saddle bags and led all three horses over to where Shannon and Logan were standing. When he was close, he pinched the brim of his hat and smiled faintly.
“Afternoon, Miss Duffy. I guess you’ve had a chance to get acquainted with my brother, Logan.”
Shannon just nodded. She was at a loss for words.
Last night at Rosie Redbottom’s, she’d gotten a good look at Tanner McBain, so she already knew he was handsome and powerfully built. But in the light of day, he looked even more impressive, standing tall with the flap of his bib shirt hanging half-open and his deeply tanned face glowing with perspiration under the brim of his cowboy hat.
