“That, Miss Shea, is none of your business.”
“It is,” she insisted.
“No,” he said flatly.“And you’ll stay here.In this cabin.”
“And you?”Shea tried to keep her apprehension from showing.
“Lady, I don’t want to be anyplace close to you.”
“I can’t stay here.”She hated the plea in her voice.
“You don’t have any choice.And if you’re smart, you’ll do as you’re told.”
“I’m obviously not, since I was foolish enough to trust Ben Smith or whatever his name is.”
“Let’s see if you’re a fast learner then,” he said, glancing around the cabin and then picking up all the weapons.He stopped midway to the door and turned back to her.“I don’t make war on women.But be clear on this—I’ll do what I must to finish what I started.If it means confining you in here, even chaining you, I’ll do it.I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.In the meantime you don’t have to worry about your safety.I have no interest in you, other than to make sure you don’t interfere in my plans.Do you understand?”
She defied him silently, her hands clenched at her sides.Her wrist still bore the print of his hand, her skin its heat.She couldn’t take back anything, not that foolish trust in Ben Smith, not the words that gave Rafferty Tyler a weapon against her father.She could only try to escape, to get to her father, to warn him.
Outlaws, the clerk had said in Casey Springs.She wondered whether her father knew who led the outlaws, or the hate that drove them.It was like a live thing, that hate.She could feel it vibrate in the room, and it made her shiver.
“Do you understand?”he said again.
She nodded without accepting.
He didn’t say anything else; he just walked toward the door without giving her another glance.He kicked the door shut behind him, and the light in the cabin dimmed.After several seconds she heard metal against metal and knew he had placed a padlock on the door.There was one window, through which light filtered, and with a sinking feeling she waited for him to rob her of that too.She didn’t have to wait long.Shutters closed, and she heard the slam of a bar holding them in place.
She was alone in darkness now, alone in these forested mountains with an outlaw who hated her father, a man she didn’t even know.She didn’t understand Tyler’s hatred, and she couldn’t minimize it.Or her own danger.No matter what he said, he couldn’t help but see her as a weapon.She tried to keep the rising terror at bay, to submerge it under other thoughts.
She searched for a weakness in Rafferty Tyler, and the artist in her recalled every feature of his face, every harsh line.She wondered what his face would look like at ease, if it had ever been that way.And she remembered the way he’d spoken of the ten years in prison, of the feel of iron—with tightness in his voice and tension in his body.She relived that moment when anger radiated from him as he’d showed her his scarred hand.
And he blamed it all on Jack Randall.
Unjustly.Rafferty Tyler had brought on his own problems by stealing army payrolls.The punishment did seem barbaric, but it was his own fault, she told herself, trying to dismiss those moments of sympathy for him.That she could feel any softness toward him made it even more essential that she escape.
She just had to.
Rafe prowled the woods like a wounded panther.
He felt cut to the core and knew his soul was as mutilated as his hand.
He kept seeing those soft blue-gray eyes: widened with terror, glinting with defiance.When he’d locked the door, they must have reflected the feelings he’d had when a cell door first closed on him.
What kind of man was he that he could terrify a woman?What had he become?
Damn Ben.And yet, Rafe might have done the same thing Ben had, given the opportunity.Randall’s daughter.He still couldn’t believe it was true, but part of him was willing to admit it was a possibility.
Could he really trade the daughter for a confession, instead of going through with the current plan: forcing Randall against a wall, bankrupting him until he did something stupid?
But no one knew about a daughter, so she couldn’t mean much to his enemy, certainly not enough to go to prison.Dammit all to hell.What was he going to do with her?
If only she hadn’t seen Ben and Clint …
But she had, and now their lives and futures were at risk, particularly those of Clint, who was involved too deeply now to unravel himself.It had been Clint who had helped with the first robbery six weeks ago.
An eye for an eye.The woman shouldn’t bother him.He wasn’t going to hurt her.And God knew he would keep her only as long as necessary, certainly nothing like the months and years he’d spent in prison because of her father.Just a few weeks.Perhaps months.
Christ, how could he handle that?
