“I understand plenty,” he says. “I know you’re scared. But you ain’t scared of me.”
My throat tightens, my wits on the edge of failure. “H-how can I be sure?”
He doesn’t flinch at the question. “If I meant you harm, you’d already know it. You patched me up, stood close enough to touch, and I never laid a hand you didn’t want. That’s the truth, ain’t it?”
My breath comes faster, my palms damp where they press against my skirts.
“Now listen,” he says. “You’ve got one chance. One. Either fetch that key and we walk out of here together, or we both hang when the law comes lookin’.”
The reality of it all closes in, bitter and final, yet it all seems like some ghastly play. A sickness settles deep in my gut. I want to run, to hide, to wake up from this nightmare.
But the way his eyes fix on me anchors me fast.
“Alice,” he says, almost pleading. “Trust me.”
Unchained,Kodiak moves with a strength and certainty that chills me. Not the bedridden man of days ago but something else entirely. He shoves Joseph’s limp body from his lap with a groan, and Joseph’s head strikes the floor with a dull thud. My stomach lurches at the sound.
He crouches low with a wince, patting Joseph down, then slips a hand into the waistcoat pocket. Bills. Folded, neat, clipped with gold.
“Where’s the inn keep its coffers?” he asks, slipping the bills into his pocket without sparing me a glance.
“Pardon?”
“Payroll. Expenses. Where’s the cash kept?”
I scoff. “You will not steal from this inn.”
His eyes snap to mine, sharp as flint. “How do you suppose we pay our way out in the world? Your dearly departed took everything I had, and I intend to get it back. Now, you can tell me and save us both a whole lotta time.”
“What will happen to the staff?” My throat tightens. “They won’t be paid.”
He drags a hand down his face, sighing, muttering, then louder, “To hell with the staff, Alice.”
“No!” I shout, surprising myself. The sound cracks through the sparsely furnished guest room. “These people are my family, and I won’t steal from them.”
He shakes his head, a low curse tumbling from his lips as he pushes past me. I stumble, my skirts brushing Joseph’s outstretched hand. A dead man’s hand. My God.
Kodiak’s boots hammer like thunder down the stairs. I follow, heart slamming, whispering prayers between breaths. Fool. Criminal. Devil. And yet, I can’t let him do this alone.
In the corridor below, I find him at Joseph’s office, hand already on the knob. He rattles it, then shoulder slams the door once. The lock holds. He draws back and kicks with a pained grunt. The crack of splintering wood jolts through me as the door is sent flying wide.
“What are you doing?” I cry, panicked.
He doesn’t turn. “Quit pesterin’ me with questions, woman.” Papers scatter off the desk as he tears inside and rifles through drawers. A fine wool Stetson rests atop a stack of leather-bound books. He lifts it, studies it a beat, then sets it square on his head. “I already told you, I ain’t goin’ to the gallows on account of the Sherman family. And I’ll be damned if I leave this place empty-handed.”
Kodiak lets his hand stray over Joseph’s desk, hooks a tobacco pouch with two fingers, and shoves it in his pocket. At last, he faces me, expression dark. “Now, are you with me or not?”
For years I’d prayed for freedom, and briefly, I believed Kodiak had been brought to my doorstep to answer that prayer. It felt destined—stars and planets aligned—right up until the moment Joseph’s cold, dead expression stared back at me.
God wouldn’t answer a prayer with such a sin. I should have known better.
“You’re a murderer,” I say, almost a whisper, but sharp enough to stop his search.
“That ain’t news to you,” he says, then flings a heap of papers aside. “Shit,” he mutters, gripping his side. He strides toward me until his shadow swallows me whole. “Those Sherman boys stuck me like a hog and chained me up, kept me breathing only so I might hang. I know you ain’t one of ’em,” he says, his hands closing at my waist.
Since we’ve met, he’s taken liberties I’d never grant a man other than my husband, yet his ungentlemanly gesture makes me soften under his touch.
“I knew it first time I laid eyes on you. Too kind, too soft to bind yourself willingly to a Sherman. I know that clan. Rotten to the core, every last one of ’em. How’d he make you his, Alice? Tell me.”
