But of course, the safe was of no use when the person taking the money knew the combination.
It’s for the best, she tried to tell herself when she heard the safe door open. She’d heard stories of women tricked or kidnapped into working at brothels, and she had no doubt that was the sort of thing Morgan was referencing. Liam was doing the only thing he could to protect her.
Liam. This was all his fault. They wouldn’t be in such a situation if he hadn’t accepted this deal in the first place. She was so mad at her brother she could spit.
Next to her, Morgan let out a low whistle. Deirdre looked up to find Jeremiah’s money laid out in a sack he must have gotten at the bank. Morgan took several minutes to look through the bag.
“That’s more than enough to clear my debt,” Liam said, his eyes narrowed as he stood by Dunn.
“I’d say it is, though Dutch is the only one who can make that determination. But I imagine you can consider yourself released,” Morgan said as he stood, the bag in his hand. “We’ll be on our way. Dunn, grab the girl.”
“Wait,” Deirdre protested as the shorter, meaner looking man grabbed her arm and yanked her into a standing position.
“We had a deal,” Liam said sharply, stepping into Morgan’s path. “You take the money, and you leave Deirdre here.”
Morgan held up a hand, clearly irritated. “It still stands. But how do I know you aren’t calling the marshal on me the second I step out of his house? Your sister is insurance, that’s all. We’ll drop her somewhere outside of town.” Then he paused, that grin creeping across his lips again. “Perhaps.”
“No!” Deirdre pulled against Dunn’s grasp in sheer desperation as Liam moved toward Morgan. Her brother looked ready for war, but Morgan was faster and bigger. Catching Liam unaware, Morgan slammed a fist into his stomach.
Liam doubled over, sinking to his knees, as Deirdre screamed.
“Keep her quiet,” Morgan barked as he unlocked the door.
Dunn shoved a hand over Deirdre’s mouth and yanked her to him, forcing her outside the door—to some unknown fate.
Chapter Twenty-three
JEREMIAH WAS HALFWAYto the house when he spotted Liam running toward him.
He was already on edge, but seeing Liam in such a state made his mind spin with every terrible possibility. “What happened?” he asked the second he was close enough.
Liam stopped in front of him, bent over just slightly and entirely out of breath. “Dutch Rodgers, the fellow I borrowed from in Denver. His men were here.”
Jeremiah’s heart lurched, especially as he glanced past Liam. He hoped beyond hope that Deirdre was simply lagging behind, but the sidewalk was empty. “What happened? Where’s Deirdre?”
Liam straightened, closing his eyes for half a second before opening them again. “Dutch’s men. Morgan and Dunn, they took her. I gave them—” He shook his head, his face awash with grief and embarrassment. “Forgive me, Wiley, I gave them your money. They threatened to take Deirdre and . . . it was all I could think of. And then they took her anyway.”
