Running from her past...

Into the arms of an outlaw!

In this Outlaws of the Wild West story, gunslinger Zane Pierce is the only man who can shield brothel madam Glory Winters against a dangerous threat. But safety at the smoldering Zane’s side comes at a price, and soon it’s not just the secrets of her past that have Glory on edge...it’s the realization that she might be losing her heart to an outlaw!

Outlaws of the Wild West miniseries

Book 1—The Innocent and the Outlaw

Book 2—A Marriage Deal with the Outlaw

Book 3—An Outlaw to Protect Her

“Readers will find the sexy adventures of Emmaline and Hunter reason enough to stay up late.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Innocent and the Outlaw

“St. George enlivens the Old West through her characters’ fast-paced story, which sizzles with sensuality and action.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Marriage Deal with the Outlaw

HARPER ST GEORGE was raised in rural Alabama and along the tranquil coast of northwest Florida. It was this setting, filled with stories of the old days, that instilled in her a love of history, romance and adventure. At high school she discovered the romance novel, which combined all those elements into one perfect package. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two young children. Visit her website: harperstgeorge.com.

Also by Harper St George

Viking Warriors miniseries

Enslaved by the Viking

One Night with the Viking

In Bed with the Viking Warrior

The Viking Warrior’s Bride

Outlaws of the Wild West miniseries

The Innocent and the Outlaw

A Marriage Deal with the Outlaw

An Outlaw to Protect Her

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

An Outlaw to Protect Her

Harper St George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07406-3

AN OUTLAW TO PROTECT HER

© 2018 Harper St. George

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Being the madam of the most notorious brothel in Montana Territory came with certain privileges. Financial security and independence rode high at the top of that list for Glory Winters. In fact, she would go so far as to say that those were the only benefits that really mattered. For they allowed the other freedoms to exist. Without them, she’d never have been able to open her home to women running away from unfortunate situations. Nor would she have had the resources to purchase nearly an eighth of the town of Helena, making her the single most prosperous female landholder.

Unfortunately, those very same privileges that she so enjoyed came with some definite negatives. One of those negatives sat across the table from her now. He grinned, giving her a flash of the gold crown capping his left bicuspid as he tossed back the remainder of his brandy. Glory suppressed a shudder as he swallowed, making the beginnings of what would soon be a double chin wobble as he did so. He brought his handkerchief up and pressed it to his mouth before wiping it across his sweaty forehead.

“Excellent beefsteak as usual, Miss Winters.”

Drawing on the impeccable manners she’d been taught at her mother’s knee, Glory offered him a dazzling smile. He was a guest and she wouldn’t insult him, but making conversation with him made her skin crawl. “Thank you, Mr. Harvey. I’m so pleased you enjoyed your meal.” She intentionally drew out the vowels to make her Southern drawl more pronounced. It never failed to charm even the most cantankerous gentleman. Though she used the term gentleman loosely in the case of William Harvey. The only thing noble about him was his dress. He was a snake in the trimmings of probably the most expensive suit she’d ever seen on a man. For a town that had made millionaires out of humble miners, that was saying a lot.

“You’ve done quite well for yourself here.” He sat back in the chair, leather creaking as he laced his hands over his lap.

Glory kept her smile in place. The words hung heavy in the air between them, filling it with silent tension broken only by the hushed conversation at one of the other tables across the dining room. Harvey always had something up his sleeve. She recognized this as the moment before he would strike and she tried to prepare herself for how bad the bite would be. One thing she had learned in her years here was to never underestimate the greed of men, especially when they saw a woman who had something they wanted.

Harvey wasn’t the first to want a stake in her business. He wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re too kind,” she said.

“And you’re too humble. I remember when this place was little more than bare floorboards and straw mattresses.”

She tried not to wince. Victoria House had never been quite that shoddy. When she’d arrived with her dear friend Able, the place had been a neglected mansion that had seen better days, but it certainly hadn’t been a hovel. They had slowly transformed it into the grand club it was today. She’d hired a proper chef, and they had several dining rooms and parlors where gentlemen could come to relax surrounded by opulence. There were plenty of saloons down the road where they could go to get a whiskey for half the cost with cheaper buy-ins for poker and faro, but they came to Victoria House because they liked the atmosphere. The dust of sophistication that coated the mansion fed their need for luxury.

These men had pulled gold, silver and copper from the earth to make themselves wealthier than they’d ever dreamed possible. The social salons of New York and London might not welcome their new money, but Glory was happy to give them a taste of that same opulence right here in Helena. Even her gowns came straight from Paris. The men were more than willing to hand over a portion of their riches for a taste of that life.

“Well, I’ve always known the value of a little hard work. As do you.” She wasn’t above pouring on a little flattery.

He inclined his head as if it were quite the task to lord over the men who did the backbreaking work of maintaining his gold mines. “It’d be a shame to see all of this hard work go to waste.” He raised a hand and indicated the room with its silk wall coverings, Persian rugs and brass finishings.

Ah, and there it was. He was after her wealth. Now to figure out his game before he could lower the trap. She’d perfected her poker face years ago, so she managed not to reveal so much as a flicker of her lashes. “Hard work rarely goes to waste.”

His smile faded, replaced by cold calculation. “You are aware that statehood is just around the corner for our humble little territory? Helena is in the running for state capital. Thanks to the railroad, nice Christian folks are moving here and they don’t want to see an establishment such as this in our midst. Surely you can see the benefit of having a friend like me.”

Rumors were that Harvey would be elected to the legislature; it was the main reason she tolerated his odious presence. She couldn’t afford to alienate anyone with political clout. “But I thought we were friends,” she countered.

He shrugged, his cold gaze sliding over her exposed shoulders and down farther in a slow glide that made her want to scrub away the filth he’d left behind. “We could be closer, Miss Winters. Much closer. I could help you keep everything you’ve worked for, and you could help me.”

She didn’t even want to entertain the thought of what helping him would entail. “I think the fine people of Helena will come to understand how much good I do for the town. My taxes and personal donations have contributed to the school that was recently built.”

He laughed. “Money only goes so far. The reputation and honor of our fair city is at stake, particularly when it comes time to vote for statehood. Why, a notorious place such as this might not be able to exist in a law-abiding state.”

“Then the fate of Victoria House is sealed either way,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder.

“Ah, but I have friends, Miss Winters. And soon I’ll have influence. If we were...friends...I could extend that influence to you.” He licked his lips, leaving them wet and shining in the light of the candle flickering on the table between them.

She swallowed past the bile that threatened to rise in the back of her throat, and opened her mouth to tell him in her sweetest voice that no way in hell would she ever be that sort of friend to him. Because she was a madam, men often assumed incorrectly that she was also for sale and she had to set them straight. Thankfully, Able intervened before she said something foolish and made an enemy they didn’t need.

“Miss Winters.” His large frame took up nearly the entire doorway of the dining room. “You’re needed upstairs.”

He had a sixth sense when it came to saving her. It had been that way ever since they escaped together twelve years earlier. She simply wouldn’t have made it out of that house in the South Carolina low country all the way to Helena had he not almost literally carried her the entire way.

“Excuse me, Mr. Harvey. Duty calls. It’s been a pleasure.” She rose and nearly gasped audibly when the man leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. No one ever touched her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Able step into the room, ready if he was needed.

“Think about what I’ve said, Glory. You may not have that long to make up your mind,” Harvey said. His eyes flashed with cruelty as he let her go just as Able came to a stop next to his chair.

“Is that a threat?” She bit the words out through clenched teeth.

“Not at all.” He grinned, but it wasn’t the least bit friendly. “Merely an observation of things to come.”

“Good evening, Mr. Harvey.” Without another word—as much as she hated him and all he stood for, she wasn’t willing to make Harvey an enemy—she strode out of the room with Able close behind her.

“Thank you for intervening,” she whispered once they’d walked far enough down the hallway to not be overheard.

Able made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve never liked that man. Don’t trust him.”

“You and me both.” She opened the door leading to the servants’ quarters in the back of the house and paused to make sure no one followed them. Closing the door behind them after Able had stepped inside, she said, “He wants Victoria House.”

Able drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “He won’t get it.” The light of the electric wall sconce reflected off his medium-brown skin, revealing a brow that was smooth and not furrowed in worry. His dark eyes were calm. Quiet and sensible, he’d become the barometer against which she measured the scope of their problems. There wouldn’t be reason to worry until he was worried.

Nodding her agreement, she said, “It’s nothing we haven’t faced before.” A couple of years ago they’d faced a similar threat, only this one had been a group of investors looking to purchase the place from her at a value far below market. Little had they known that Able was part owner and any decision she made would have to be corroborated by him. Once they’d found out they’d resorted to force instead of seduction. In the end, they’d dealt with those men and she had confidence that Harvey could be handled as well.

“Is everything else going well?” she asked.

“Fine. We’re a little busier because of the faro tournament across the road, but everyone is behaving themselves.”

“In that case, I’ll go get a little work done in my study and give Harvey some time to leave. Let me know if I’m needed.” Able agreed, and Glory took the back stairs up to her study on the mansion’s third floor. The top floor was private. Her apartment was attached to her study and the other ladies who lived at Victoria House full-time had rooms there. It wasn’t decorated quite as ostentatiously as the rest of the house. The wall color was a soft cream with a blue-and-gold runner softening her steps in the hallway. Each door boasted a wreath or some other decorative trinket that reflected the resident’s personality. In short, this floor felt like home and was a respite from the bustle of the rest of the house.

Up here the William Harveys of the world felt far away. Glory let out a breath, already anticipating the nice long soak in her bathtub she’d take when the evening was over. It seemed like the nights were getting longer, or maybe she was simply getting older. She’d be thirty in a couple of years, which didn’t seem particularly old, but this wasn’t where she’d imagined herself at this point. Life was strange in that way. Nothing ever seemed to happen the way she meant for it to happen, but she’d learned that it could still be good. She had about a million things to be thankful for, not the least of which were security and independence. It was more than she’d had a decade ago.

She was smiling when she approached her study, but the smile faltered when she realized that the door wasn’t latched. A gentle nudge revealed that her assistant’s desk sat empty. Glory turned on the wall sconce to reveal that no one was in the antechamber at all. How odd. Charlotte, her assistant, always closed up when she finished her work for the evening. A stack of correspondence ready to post the next morning sat on the corner of Charlotte’s small desk, exactly as she’d left them. It was possible that Charlotte had forgotten to lock up, but a strange sense of foreboding made her stomach tumble.

Glory took in a deep breath, consciously avoiding looking across the room at the door that led to her study. Glory was the only person with a key to that door. If it was open then it meant that someone had broken in and she’d have to face that her sanctuary wasn’t really a sanctuary at all. But she was being silly. Of course it was locked. To prove it to herself she put her hand into the hidden pocket of her skirt and wrapped her fingers around the warm metal of the key. It was still safely with her. Charlotte had simply forgotten to close the door to the hallway.

Her heart pounding, she turned toward her door. It was mercifully closed. An exhale of relief left her feeling deflated and weak. She put a hand on the corner of Charlotte’s desk to keep her balance. Even after all these years she was wary of any irregularity. She knew all too well how quickly life could come crashing down with very little warning.

There was no light coming from beneath her door and no sound came from within her study. No one had been inside. She knew that, but her heart resumed its pounding as she approached the door with her key in hand. The cool metal of the latch chilled her palm and she gave it a quick turn to test the lock. Her key held useless in her other hand, the door latch made a clicking sound as it unlatched. She gave a little push and the door creaked, swinging open to reveal the interior of her office. Moonlight flooded in through the windows facing the street, spilling onto the carpeted floor. No one was inside, but nevertheless she moved forward cautiously.

As soon as her feet crossed the threshold she saw it. It was a square piece of parchment sitting in the middle of her tidy desk, and it seemed to have a nearly ethereal glow in the moonlight. It had not been there when she’d left earlier in the evening.

Turning on the electric sconce on the wall didn’t help. The white parchment lost its glow, but it didn’t seem any less dangerous. It hadn’t been sent by post. There was no envelope, no markings at all. She crossed to her desk, watching the note as if it were a living thing that could jump out and grab her at any moment. Blood pounded through her head, filling her ears with its roar. Somehow her life would change when she read that letter. She just knew it. Good things rarely came along unexpectedly.

Her fingers trembled when she reached for it. The stiff paper was cool under her touch, barely crinkling as she sucked in a deep breath and flipped it open. The first five words on the page jumped out at her, sending a shard of terror straight through her heart.

I know who you are.

Chapter Two

Zane Pierce tossed back the last of the whiskey in his tumbler and rose from his stool at the bar. The woman tending the bar gave him a smile as she picked up the glass and wiped the mahogany beneath it to a shine. “Fancy some company later tonight?”

Penelope was naturally pretty in a quiet way that wasn’t very outrageous. Even with the kohl lining her eyes and her reddened lips, she gave off an air that was almost wholesome. As if she could just as easily be teaching Sunday school at a church across town instead of working at Victoria House. Some men seemed to like that. Since Zane had been around for the past week, he’d noticed a few of the patrons asking to take her upstairs, but she’d turned them all down. Maybe she didn’t “work upstairs,” the code he’d learned referred to the prostitutes who worked on the second floor. Hell, he might’ve even been interested at one time.

He glanced across the length of the dining room to the door through which Glory had recently disappeared. She’d made it clear when she’d allowed him to have a room a week ago that taking refuge in Victoria House meant that her women were off-limits. The castration that would result probably wasn’t worth it, he mused.

“I don’t think Miss Winters would appreciate that.” That was only part of the reason. In reality it was a gentle way to let Penelope down, because the only woman he was interested in was Glory. The truth was that Glory Winters was the only woman who’d caught his interest in a long time.

They’d known each other for a couple of years now and had spent that entire time circling each other. He could probably count on one hand the times they’d spoken. He might’ve thought she wasn’t interested in him except that he heard the way she caught her breath when he passed too close. He caught the looks she flashed his way when she thought he couldn’t see her.

One night earlier in the week he’d caught her staring at him in the lounge at Victoria House. He’d been sitting at the bar drinking a whiskey before returning to his room for the night. She’d been standing just outside the doorway at an angle that should’ve obscured her from view. He only saw her because the mirror above the bar had caught her reflection just right. She’d stood there for a solid two minutes staring at him with a look that he could only describe as pure longing on her face. When he’d turned to talk to her she’d taken off running. He hadn’t followed her because he’d hoped to give her time to come to him.

“Oh.” Penelope nibbled her lip and offered him a shy smile. “I didn’t mean that I’d charge you anything. I don’t work upstairs.”

Something about the woman’s softly worded admission tugged at him. For the first time he found himself wondering what life was like for the women here. Did Penelope want to be a farmer’s wife or was she happy at Victoria House? Was she lonely? He lowered his voice to soften his rejection. “Maybe some other time after I’ve moved out.”

Which could be as early as tomorrow since their hunt for Buck Derringer was over. The search had consumed them for the past few years. Zane had been working on a ranch down in Texas owned by his friend Castillo’s grandfather. Derringer had come around offering improved ranching methods and expertise, and pretty soon he’d swindled Castillo’s grandfather out of his life savings. When Castillo had tried to collect, Derringer and his son, Bennett, had blown through the ranch one night, killing Castillo’s grandfather and leaving destruction. The ranch had burned to the ground. The scar Zane carried on his face was a lifetime reminder of that horrible night. Zane had vowed to help his friend get revenge.

They’d been joined by Castillo’s half brother, Hunter, and had soon become known as the Reyes Brothers. After years of searching from Texas to Montana Territory, Derringer had found them in Helena, Hunter’s hometown. Last week they’d been in a shoot-out with Derringer’s son and killed him, and Derringer had gone into hiding again. Two days ago Derringer had come out of nowhere, shooting at Castillo from an alley. He’d been wounded, but Zane had managed to come to his aid and together they’d killed the bastard.

The years of searching were over, but Zane wasn’t ready to leave Victoria House just yet. He’d taken a room here to root out Derringer and while their enemy had fallen, Zane hadn’t moved one step closer in uncovering the mystery of the brothel’s madam. No one was willing to talk much about the madam or her past. It was as infuriating as it was intriguing.

Penelope gave him a smile and a disappointed shrug before moving on to help another customer, while Zane turned back to the dining room. William Harvey had stood from the table he’d occupied with Glory and was making his way out of the room. Zane couldn’t stop himself from glaring. He’d nearly come off his stool when Harvey had grabbed Glory. He’d have gone over to stop the son of a bitch from touching her if Able hadn’t intervened.

Zane followed behind Harvey to the front door, making sure the man didn’t try to find her. He had no idea what they’d been talking about, but it had been apparent that she had left their conversation upset. Harvey stopped to talk with a man Zane recognized as a banker and frequent guest of the house, so Zane paused in the shadows, unwilling to let Harvey out of his sight as long as the man was in the house. After a few minutes, Harvey said his goodbyes, retrieved his hat from the doorman and left.

Zane breathed a sigh of relief and made his way to the servants’ hall and out the back door. Some time ago Glory had purchased the property that adjoined Victoria House in the back. It had been a boardinghouse hastily built to accommodate the influx of miners. At some point it had fallen into disrepair, so she’d restored it. The second floor was now a temporary home for women who needed it. Women who were abused or abandoned and often had nowhere else to go. The first floor had a set of apartments occupied by Able and his wife on one side, while the other side had been turned into a makeshift clinic for her ladies that he’d heard was better equipped than the town’s hospital.

That’s where he was headed now. They’d taken Castillo there because the hospital’s doctor was a known drunk. He had a reputation for killing as many as he saved, and the gang hadn’t been willing to take the chance on their leader’s life. Castillo was still there recovering from his gunshot wound, and they needed to discuss what to do next. His boots clicked on the cobblestones of the courtyard and a few lanterns lit his way across the fenced-in enclosure. The second-and third-floor windows of Victoria House were boarded over with decorative shutters to preserve privacy. A few of the ladies who weren’t working were taking advantage of that privacy and the mild summer night to play a game of dice.

“Evening, ladies.” He gave them a nod as he passed. They returned his greeting and a few watched him with interest. None of them had approached him in the entire time he’d been in residence. He’d discovered that, due to his size and the nasty scar that covered part of his face, women tended to be afraid of him. Penelope had probably only warmed up to him because he’d had a drink at her bar each night before going to bed and maybe she’d realized he was harmless. He almost laughed at the description. Well, harmless for a wanted outlaw.

A few minutes later Zane walked into Castillo’s room, where Castillo’s new wife, Caroline, was busy fussing over him. She fluffed Castillo’s pillow and stroked his cheek as his friend looked up at her, clearly besotted. The fool. Zane had to stop himself from shaking his head. He’d learned his lesson about women and love with Christine. Even the thought of her made his scar tingle.

Although Zane hadn’t let his feelings be known about the matter, he was of the opinion that Castillo would’ve been paying more attention to his surroundings on the morning he was shot had Caroline not been with him. He might’ve noticed Derringer sooner. Instead, Derringer had gotten the best of him and left him with a bullet wound in his abdomen. Caroline, who was studying to be a physician, had stitched him up. Though Castillo seemed to be on the mend, they weren’t out of the woods yet as infection could seep in at any time. It just proved the point that men like them had no business with women. Well, not for more than a casual affair. Anything more intense would be too risky.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, jarring the couple apart.

“Like I got shot in the gut,” Castillo said in his slightly accented English. “But I’ll live thanks to the doc here.”

Caroline grinned and brushed back a strand of black hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Not a doctor yet, but soon.”

She was being too modest. She’d spent her childhood apprenticing under her father, and Zane had seen firsthand how efficiently she’d worked on Castillo. She knew what she was doing. “We’re thankful you were here,” Zane said, walking farther into the room to stand with a hip leaned against a bureau.

Hunter sat in a chair beside the bed. “Caroline says he’ll be stable enough that we can move him to the town house in the morning.”

Zane nodded his agreement. The town house was more secure, and they’d be able to post their men around it. So far it seemed that Derringer had been alone and no one would come to avenge his death, but they needed to take precautions just to be sure. Not to mention the fact that the clinic was essentially attached to the brothel. The Jameson name and wealth could only protect Caroline’s reputation for so long. If she had any hope of showing her face in polite society again, they needed to get her away from Victoria House soon.

“Let’s move him before dawn then,” Zane said. “Less people around to worry about.”

As they made plans for moving Castillo, Zane realized that this really would be his last night in Victoria House. His last night close to Glory. His last chance to explore the strange attraction between them. But she’d been so careful to never let him get close, he didn’t know how he was going to make that happen. She never let anyone get too close. As far as he could tell, Able was the only one she trusted. At first, he’d been able to respect that. He knew how it felt to keep others at a distance. He’d done it himself most of his life. But staying at Victoria House for the past week had made him want things with her that were better left unexplored.

If only he could heed his own advice.

Part of him knew that he should let it go, but another part, a stronger part, of him wondered if there was something holding her back. Some reason that she wouldn’t approach him even though she was clearly interested. Damn, he’d give anything to know her secrets. She kept herself so guarded they were impossible to figure out. One night wouldn’t be nearly enough time.

“Glory?” Hunter’s voice made Zane jerk his head up. He found Glory standing in the doorway as if his thoughts had somehow conjured her. She wore the same emerald green gown from earlier. Her deep red hair was piled impeccably atop her head. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It was more than her looks though. It was the way she held herself, the way she ran the brothel with confidence and competency. She was like a queen.

Only when he looked closer did he notice the tension lines around her mouth and the worry lines creasing her brow. She seemed pale. He pushed away from the bureau, ready to chase Harvey down for whatever he’d done to her, but her voice stopped him.

“How are you feeling, Castillo?” she asked, doing her best to put on a calm facade.

“Much better, thank you,” Castillo answered.

“Thank you so much for opening your home to us.” Caroline came around the foot of the bed. To her credit, she extended her hand toward Glory as if she didn’t care the woman was a brothel madam. “I’ve never seen the hospital in town, but the stories make me fear what would’ve happened had we taken him there. Your setup here is one of the nicest I’ve seen. It rivals my father’s own practice back in Boston.”

Glory smiled and shook her hand. “Please don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do. I’m happy everything’s turned out well.”

Hunter added, “We’re indebted to you, as usual. If you ever need anything—”

“Actually, I do need your help,” Glory said, turning her attention from Caroline to Hunter. Zane noted she managed not to look at him even though he stood close to Hunter. He couldn’t help but feel she did it purposefully.

“Anything. What do you need?” Hunter asked as he came to his feet.

“If you and Mr. Pierce could come to my study as soon as possible, I’d be grateful.”

Mr. Pierce. She’d only called him by his given name once. It had happened last week when he and Castillo had captured a man who’d been following them and brought him to her storeroom to interrogate. She’d been so angry at them for daring to endanger her ladies, and she’d forgotten her resolve to only use his last name. It wasn’t much, but he’d decided to call it progress and he’d made it his mission to get her to call him Zane again.

“Has something happened?” Zane asked.

She finally looked at him, her eyes going slightly wider as she took a deep breath. He couldn’t be sure with the low lighting but he’d bet that he could see the pulse in her throat flickering. Her tongue came out to moisten her lips and something deep inside him clenched.

But aside from the anger, he saw fear in the depths of her eyes and it raised the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you in danger, Glory?” he asked.

“Please come to my study. I—I’ll tell you both everything.” She turned and left without giving him a chance to say anything more.

Now there was an invitation he couldn’t refuse.

Chapter Three

Glory rushed across the courtyard toward the sanctity of her study as fast as she could without rousing suspicion. Only she couldn’t really think of it as her safe place anymore after someone had broken into it. As she fled she could still hear the echo of Zane’s deep voice reverberating within her. She didn’t just hear his voice, she felt it, bouncing off the hollows inside her and smoothing out their edges. He’d been wreaking havoc on her emotional state all week without even realizing it. She wanted him to leave so that she could stop thinking about him, but the thought of possibly never seeing him again made her feel bereft.

It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Glory couldn’t even figure out why he affected her so. It had simply always been that way and she couldn’t stop whatever he did to her as much as she wanted to. Instead of trying anymore, she simply ignored it.

Grabbing the key from her pocket with more force than was strictly necessary, she shoved it into the lock of her study door and pushed it open, half expecting someone to pop out at her. It was as empty as it had been before, and that damned letter was still on her desk except this time it was open just as she’d left it. From across the room, her gaze caught on those five little words.

I know who you are.

They were ominous. Able was the only person in the whole world who knew her true identity. No one else knew her real name or where she had come from. She’d made up several stories and told them all at various times with a wink and a smile. The wealthy patrons of Victoria House didn’t care where the madam was from. All they really wanted was a bit of intrigue, so she told them she was a runaway countess, or the long-lost granddaughter of the famous pirate Jean Lafitte. Once, a rumor had started that she was an illegitimate Russian princess, and she hadn’t bothered to refute it. If they believed the stories it was because they wanted to. Because of her accent, most assumed she was a Southern belle whose family had been displaced during the war. She never confirmed or denied anything. The stories were good for business, because they kept her mysterious.

The truth would not be good for business. As a matter of fact, the truth could very well get her and Able killed. The shock of that settled into her bones as she walked to stand behind her desk, staring down at the letter. The words written in black ink on the parchment sent cold tendrils of fear curling down her spine. She shivered and forced a deep, even breath to keep the terror at bay. She refused to allow one simple note to paralyze her with fear.

But it was jarring, because she’d never received a note like this since her escape. It was certainly plausible that someone from her old life had tracked her down, even after all this time. It was also true that she’d made many enemies in her line of work—namely men who wanted the fortune she managed—and would relish bringing her past rushing back to meet her. Harvey came to mind immediately. Had he somehow had a hand in this? Was this a move to push her into accepting his friendship?

Well, she wasn’t a sixteen-year-old runaway anymore. She had ways to fight back now.

Able walked in with a wary expression on his face. She’d sent word for him to meet her here before she’d gone to talk to Hunter and Zane. It was unusual for her to call a meeting with him this late at night, especially when they were so busy.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, his gaze searching her face.

She waved her hand to the empty chair across from her. Some part of her wanted to hold off the sharing of the letter as long as possible to keep things as they were before she’d found it. Her peace of mind might be shattered, but that didn’t mean she had to involve Able. Only she did have to involve him. The letter affected him as much as her, so it was only right to tell him. He took in a deep, fortifying breath as if he knew what was coming and unbuttoned his coat as he sat down.

“I thought you should know that I received this today.” She held up the letter. “Someone is claiming to know who I am.”

His jaw clenched and his dark eyes hardened. “Who sent it?”

She shook her head. “It’s anonymous.”

He held out his hand and she gave the letter to him, dropping the parchment as if it had burned her the second he took it. His brow furrowed as he scanned the letter and tightness squeezed her chest. Glory realized that she was holding her breath, hoping against hope that he’d find something she had missed that would tell them the letter was a hoax, so she let it out and felt her muscles relax.

A knock on the open door drew her attention. Hunter came in followed closely by Zane. Hunter was tall at just over six feet, but Zane towered over him by a few inches. His large frame was strapped with lean muscle, matching Able in sheer powerful strength. If not for Zane’s darker coloring marking his native heritage, she’d imagine there was at least one Viking ancestor in his lineage.

Despite his size, his appearance wasn’t the most striking thing about him, at least not for her. It was his eyes. They were so dark they were nearly black and looked at her with an intensity she didn’t know how to interpret. It was almost as if he could see past the role that she played. As if he was the only one who could look through the brothel madam costume and wonder at the real woman beneath.

The longer she was around him the more she craved that. He was looking at her now as he closed the door behind him. She couldn’t stop herself from staring at the pink scar that started just above his right eyebrow, went down over his cheekbone, before drifting off into his hairline. Time and time again she’d wanted to ask him about it but hadn’t. She knew what it was like to have scars you didn’t want to talk about. Luckily hers were hidden, but she could only imagine how she’d feel if someone questioned them. So she stayed silent on that point out of both respect and self-preservation. The less she knew about him the better. He was an outlaw and she was the madam of a brothel. There was no future for either of them, especially not together.

“Thank you both for coming,” she said, returning her attention to Hunter. He was always the one out of the band of brothers who’d taken the lead in dealing with her. “Please sit down.” Noting there was only one chair available since Able occupied the other, she added, “There’s an extra chair in Charlotte’s office.”

“There’s no need,” Zane said, crossing his arms over his chest as he came to stand behind the empty chair. He gave a nod to Hunter, and his friend sat down in the chair.

“I’ve asked you here because I’ve received a rather disturbing letter.” The paper crinkled as Able finished reading it and handed it back to her. A glance at his face told her nothing of how he felt. If he was worried he was careful not to show it. “Well, perhaps I should simply read the letter so you’ll understand.”

At Hunter’s nod of encouragement, she took a deep breath, loath to read the words again. There was no help for it though, so she plowed forward.

“‘I know who you are. You will understandably doubt my claim, so allow me to elaborate. It is my preference not to give too much away in the event someone else finds this letter, so I will simply say that I know you are from South Carolina. I know that you arrived in Helena in 1876 with nothing but the funds you managed to steal, along with your grandmother’s quilt.’”

Her voice trembled, so she paused to clear her throat. Those were details anyone could guess, she reasoned.

“It’s common knowledge among the staff that I sleep with my grandmother’s quilt and anyone could guess about the South Carolina bit,” she said.

Able nodded in agreement. “Keep reading.”

She took a fortifying breath and continued. “‘I know your true name. I know the details that caused you to run away. I know from whom you ran.’”

She paused as that vile man’s image came to mind. Justin Dubose. Every day that passed she resisted thinking about him, but he was always there lurking in the shadows of her memory. She feared that he always would be.

When she paused, Hunter said, “It’s a clever attempt at extortion, but there’s no solid information to prove they do know who you are.”

His handsome face revealed no hint of alarm. Perhaps that meant she was overreacting, or perhaps it meant he simply didn’t understand the severity of her danger.

Biting her lower lip, she read to the end. “‘Please do not misunderstand my intention. I was hired to find you. I have no personal stake in your recovery. My goal is simply to give you the opportunity to stay hidden. Should you choose to take that opportunity I will disappear with my payment, never to be seen again. Should you refuse, then I have no choice but to report my findings to my employer. The choice is yours. If you wish to stay hidden, have five thousand dollars directed to the account number and bank below. You have one week.’”

There was no signature, only an account number and the address of a bank in Chicago.

The room was silent as she laid the letter on her desk. A myriad of emotions played out in her mind: fear, disbelief, frustration, anger, resolve. In the blink of an eye, she went from uncertainty to somehow knowing exactly what she wanted to do. “We have to find this person.”

“Are the details in the letter accurate?” Hunter asked.

“Close enough.” The waver was gone from her voice, thankfully.

Able stood, his hand going up to the back of his neck to massage away stiffness. “It doesn’t say much, but the things it does say...” His voice trailed off and he walked to the window that looked out over the mansion’s immaculate front stoop and the street beyond, his unfocused gaze taking in the night sky.

Zane walked around to take Able’s vacated chair. Sitting down, he leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “Did you run from someone, Glory?”

She blinked, her body instinctively tensing in reaction to having that old wound prodded. “I’d rather not get into my past. That’s why I want the person caught.”

Zane stared at her, his gaze touching every inch of her face. Maybe he thought if he looked hard enough he’d find the answer there. God help her, a part of her wanted to tell him everything. To share the secret that only Able knew because he’d been there when it had happened. She’d never told another soul, because she’d never trusted anyone enough. She didn’t know Zane well, so there was no reason to trust him, but as she stared into the depths of his sympathetic eyes she wanted to tell him everything. Some small part of her hoped that sharing the burden would make it lighter, but realistically, she knew that wouldn’t happen. Telling anyone else would simply open herself up to more situations like this. The world was ruled by greed. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Hunter intervened before Zane could reply. “We can find this person, but it would help if you’d let us know a little more.”

“It’s best that you know as little as possible.”

Hunter frowned but the expression was mild. “If we’re going to help we do need to know where to look for this person. And if a threat is coming, then we need to know who to look for to stop it.”

She wavered and stared down at the letter again. What he said made sense, but there was no way she was letting anyone know where she and Able had come from. She didn’t think that Hunter or Zane would intentionally betray her, but if the wrong person found out they could easily bring the devil himself to her door.

“Glory and I came here twelve years ago.” Able walked over to stand behind her chair. “We have no contact with anyone we left behind. We can’t tell you any more than that.”

His brow creased in visible frustration, Zane said, “You don’t have to tell us who...yet, but we need to know... Is it possible that someone is looking for you?”

Taking a ragged breath, she nodded. “Yes.”

“And what would happen if this person found you?”

She was silent as she thought about how much to tell him. Finally she went with the simplest version of the truth. “Very bad things.”

He sat up straight, his palms running down his thighs as he visibly tried to control his anger. She was glad he was angry on their behalf. Maybe he and Hunter would be able to control this threat before it could hurt them.

“Able will be in danger as well,” she added.

“We’ll find the person responsible for this letter.” Hunter stabbed at the letter lying on her desk with his index finger as he spoke.

Glory nodded. “It’s not that I can’t pay the five thousand dollars. It’s that I’m concerned that this person will turn over the information to their employer anyway. I can’t emphasize enough how important it is that Able and I stay hidden.”

“Do you think the person you’re running from would involve the authorities? Marshals? Congressmen?” Hunter asked. He was asking if they’d done something illegal.

“No, nothing like that. This is a personal issue,” she said.

“Could it be Harvey?” Zane asked.

“How do you know about William Harvey?” she asked, surprised he knew when she’d only just realized that Harvey could be a potential, immediate threat.

His well-shaped lips tipped up into a semblance of what passed as a smile for Zane, giving her a flash of white teeth. “I saw you talking to him downstairs. He didn’t seem pleased when he left.”

“You saw him leave then?” she asked.

He nodded. “I followed him out.”

“Well, then it wasn’t him who left the note,” she concluded. “I was with him from the time he arrived until I left him, and then you followed him out. He wouldn’t have had time to come up and leave this.”

“Wait.” Hunter held up his arms and all attention turned to him. “The letter was left in your study?”

She nodded. “Right here on my desk.”

“Does anyone have a key to your study?” he asked.

“No. The only key is here in my pocket where it’s been all day.” She felt its solid weight through the silk of her gown.

Zane moved so fast that she sat back in surprise as he drew a small revolver he kept in his boot.

She gasped but managed to keep her voice low as she said, “You know there are no guns allowed in this house, Mr. Pierce.” Every man who entered was required to hand over his guns at the door to be returned upon his departure.

“Tell that to whoever broke into your study and could be in your apartment now. Go downstairs.” He walked to the door that led to her suite of rooms, where he pressed an ear against the solid wood as if listening for movement within.

“I don’t want to go downstairs. People are bound to get suspicious and I don’t want anyone to know what’s going on,” she argued, staying where she was. “Besides, the keys to my study and my personal rooms are different.”

He grimaced at her, clearly disapproving of her choice. Looking from her to Able, he said, “Stay here with her and keep vigilant.” He tested the door latch and once he found it locked he motioned for her to hand over the key.

Glory sighed, but she handed it over.

“It’s possible someone doesn’t have a key so they picked the lock,” Hunter explained. “Better to use caution and check it out now.” He grabbed a gun from his boot and took up sentry at the door to her darkened apartment ready to rush to help should Zane need him.

Realizing they were right, but still not liking the additional invasion of her privacy, Glory turned her attention back to Able who was staring down at the letter. “What do you make of this?”

“It’s blackmail.” Able spat the word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth and walked to the window again. The glow of the streetlights backlit him, making his medium-brown skin appear darker. He ran a hand over his head, his palm skimming right over his short hair. “I can’t abide that cowardice.”

“Do you think it’s real? Do you think it’s possible someone really knows who we are?” There was no doubt in her mind that if someone knew who she was that they’d know who Able was as well. She and Able had escaped together.

He looked back at her and even in the dim lighting she caught the flash of worry that crossed his eyes. Solid, confident, levelheaded Able was concerned. The fear she’d felt earlier came back, only this time it wasn’t creeping and cold. It came over her in a wave of panic that was cold and then hot, nearly sending her to her feet in a rush to do something. Anything.

“We need to find out where this letter came from,” said Able. He paced over to lean a hip on the edge of her desk, clearly too agitated to stay still for long. “I’ll start questioning the staff. There’s an account number here where you’re to deposit the money. We can have it traced.”

Yes, there were things they could do. She wasn’t defenseless anymore. She shoved the panic down again and held on to that one fact. “Right. That’s the first place to start.”

Able nodded. “I’ll go out in the morning—”

“No,” Glory interjected. “We can question the staff discreetly, but we can’t let anyone know about the note. And we especially can’t let anyone connect us to whoever owns this account.” She pointed at the numbers written on the piece of paper. Turning her attention to the man guarding the door to her apartment, she said, “Hunter, this is the main reason I came to you for help. Your family owns shares in the bank.” Hunter’s father was one of the wealthiest men in town. The Jamesons had been major shareholders in the bank since its founding. “Surely you can make some confidential inquiries and figure out whose name is attached to this account without tying that inquiry back to us? I think if we could make some headway on that front, we can wrap this up quickly.”

“I can make some inquiries in the morning,” said Hunter.

She nodded, already feeling a little better now that they were making plans to deal with this. As if sensing her disquiet, Able put his hand on her shoulder.

“He won’t be able to touch you here, Glory. You know that?” Able asked.

There was no need for Able to elaborate on who he was. He had been the dark phantom hovering over them ever since they’d escaped; the monster they both feared in the dark of night. She nodded and Able squeezed her shoulder. Here they were again after all these years. Trying to reassure each other that Justin wouldn’t get them. To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure she believed it fully. There were still times she woke up in the middle of the night expecting him to be there. If he found his way to them, she was certain that he would kill them.

Instead of putting voice to her fears, she squeezed Able’s hand and took his offer of comfort for what it was. He’d become the family she’d had to give up. An older brother who would always be there to look out for her. Only now that was threatened and she needed to do something about it.

Chapter Four

Zane moved silently into the sitting area of Glory’s suite of rooms. The only light came in through the window facing the street, casting the small space in shadow and shades of gray. Alert to any movement, he switched on the wall sconce. Yellow light filtered over the landscape paintings on the wall and the overstuffed, comfortable-looking furniture that made up the bulk of the room’s decor. It was much cozier than he’d been expecting. All the furniture downstairs was elegant and chosen for fashion more than comfort. He’d been expecting more of the same in the madam’s private rooms.

It wasn’t a very large space, but it was relaxed and homey. A full bookcase sat on one wall and the other held what he assumed was a phonograph, though he’d never seen one in person. The large brass cone sat silently. Everything appeared well-kept and undisturbed.

On quiet feet, he glanced inside the tiled bathing chamber to find it empty before making his way to her bedchamber. A strange feeling came over him as he opened the door and switched on the light. A sense that he was intruding on her private sanctuary, the place she came to get away from the world, washed over him. It was a place he very much wanted to know. Her bed sat neatly made with a faded blue-and-yellow quilt. Given the understated elegance of the rest of the space, he’d expected something slightly more grand. Maybe something made of silk or satin. But it was an ordinary quilt. Her grandmother’s quilt, he realized.

How many people knew about that quilt? The rumor was that she never entertained men privately. While that seemed to be true, rumors could be wrong. At the very least, it was highly likely that her staff had been to her private rooms. The list of people who knew that detail was endless.

He tried to imagine her sitting on the bed, reading the book that sat closed on the nightstand. Her bare feet peeking out beneath the hem of her gown with her hair down around her. He couldn’t do it. He knew so little of the woman he couldn’t imagine her as anything other than the self-possessed Glory Winters. Calm, elegant and always proper. Did she ever lounge in her bed without a corset? He grinned at the thought.

Stepping farther into the room, the soft scent of roses washed over him. Nervous energy moved through him at the same time his skin tightened, muscles deep in his gut clenched in pleasurable anticipation. The scent of roses had always filled him with wary trepidation, reminding him of the words of warning he’d been given as a child. Roses were a sign of death. Yet, ever since he’d met Glory, he’d associated the scent with her, leaving his body a mess of confusion.

A dressing table sat across from the bed with cosmetics and perfumes scattered across the surface as if she’d dressed in a hurry that morning. He felt like an interloper as he examined it. He should be checking the armoire and under her bed, but he couldn’t make himself walk away just yet. He gently ran his fingertips over a handkerchief she’d left blotted with rouge from her mouth. The shape of her lips stared back at him.

A clouded glass bottle sat backed up to the mirror, and he picked it up. Bringing it to his nose, he closed his eyes as he inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume. It always lingered behind her, lying faintly in the air when she passed, sweetly calling him to his doom. The usual warning sounded in his head, warring with the desire that had flared to life within him. No matter how he reminded himself of the premonition, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to inhale that scent directly from her skin.

He shook his head at the thought. In all the years that had passed since he’d left his mother’s people, he’d never quite been able to shake the words from his memory. His aunt had told him before she’d sent him away to his father that roses were bad for him because she’d seen it in a dream. That warning had stayed with him for years. He’d never even seen a rose before she’d told him that. She’d drawn a tightly budded flower in the dirt to show him, but he hadn’t been able to tell much from it. He’d grown up avoiding every flower he came into contact with. Now that he was older, he couldn’t decide if what she’d told him was real or something she’d imagined, but he still couldn’t shake the premonition that came over him.

He put the bottle back and forced himself to walk to the armoire and look inside. Empty but for stacks of brightly colored silks and satins. It was the same beneath her bed. A couple of wooden boxes were stored there, and he realized that he’d give his eyeteeth to know what was inside—evidence of who Glory really was. But he wouldn’t intrude on her privacy any further than he already had.

Turning the light off behind him, he moved back into the parlor. From his vantage point he noticed a wooden frame on top of a spindly table. The frame held a single rose pressed between two small panes of glass. He walked over and picked the frame up out of its little stand to examine it closer. The rose was dried, its petals various shades of faded pink.

A warning? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t leave Glory to fight this battle on her own. The rose was a reminder that he could help her, but he needed to keep his distance. Setting the frame back down in its stand, he walked back to her study.

“It’s empty. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been in there.”

Glory gave a firm nod as if that was exactly what she’d expected him to find. He had to admit that he’d been a little brash, but the idea of someone hiding in her rooms ready to harm her had sent him barreling forward.

“We were talking about next steps,” Hunter offered. “I’ll check into the bank account tomorrow.”

“And I can question the staff about who might have had access to this room,” Able added.

“I can help with that,” Zane said. It was no secret that most people were afraid of him. His height combined with the scar and his longer hair effectively kept most people at a distance. Over the years they’d been riding together as the Reyes Brothers, it had quickly become apparent that Zane was the most effective of the group when it came to interrogation. He always got the information he needed. His record was flawless, not counting the night they’d met Emmaline, but then she’d eventually married Hunter, so he didn’t count her.

“No need, Pierce. I can handle it.” Able gave him a firm look.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Able. I’m happy to help.” Zane smirked just to rile up Able’s irrational distaste of him. There’d never been one incident that Zane could trace back to the origin of that dislike. It just was, like Zane’s fascination with Glory.

“I can handle it.” Able crossed his arms over his chest.

“I have more experience in these things than you,” Zane countered.

“Gentlemen.” Glory’s voice cracked through the room. “There’s enough staff for you both. The last thing we need right now is you two at each other’s throats.”

Able stepped back and dropped his arms, conceding her point. Zane gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. She was right. There was no need to make the task before them more difficult.

She sighed, calming herself. “I only ask that you make your inquiries discreet. I don’t want to give fuel to any rumors that may start.” That seemed a simple enough request, but then she narrowed her eyes at him. “That means no dragging anyone into the cellar. No tying anyone up. No assaulting anyone.”

Zane bit back a grin. She was referring to the man Derringer had paid to find Castillo. They’d caught him lurking around last week and brought him to Victoria House’s cellar for questioning. “As you wish, but I can’t be responsible for a lack of results with my methods inhibited.” He was teasing her. Those methods he usually reserved for criminals or people actively trying to kill him.

She stared at him as if trying to determine if he was joking. He wasn’t about to clue her in to whether he was or not, so he continued since he had her attention. “Until we know who sent this letter, I think it’s best if you’re never alone. We don’t know who this person is, or if it’s the very same person you both ran away from...” Zane paused because he knew what he said next would rile her. “I’ll stay with you until we get this settled.”

“Stay with me?” Her mouth dropped open slightly.

“Until we figure out who this is and if he or she is dangerous.” He nodded.

She tensed to refuse, but Able interrupted her. “Pierce is right.”

Zane stared at him, surprised that he’d so easily gotten the man’s endorsement.

“Absolutely not!” Glory gaped at her friend as if he’d just sided with the devil himself.

“Someone got into your office,” explained Able. “What’s to say that they can’t get into your room tonight?”

She blinked as if she hadn’t even considered the possibility and closed her mouth.

“But it won’t be Pierce,” Able added. “I’ll stay.”

“No, Able.” Glory stood up and closed the distance between them. “What about Clara? She’s due to go into labor soon, and she’s on bedrest. She needs you around at night.”

“Labor isn’t likely for a few more weeks, according to the midwife.” Able shrugged. “I can ask one of the women to sleep over while I’m gone.”

Glory shook her head. “Whoever knows who I am, knows who you are too. What if they try to find you in your rooms, only to find Clara alone?”

Able frowned, the grooves on his forehead deepening. He ran a hand over his head, a tell that he was agitated.

Finally, after a tension-filled moment, Glory sighed. “It’s too much trouble for something that’s likely to amount to nothing more than you and Mr. Pierce being overprotective, but, in the interest of safety, we have no choice.” She looked over at Zane, giving him the distinct impression that he was her second choice for the task. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce, for your offer. It pains me to admit it, but I’d feel better having someone around. Just in case.”

Zane inclined his head and she gave him an impersonal smile as she retook her seat and focused her attention on Hunter. Hunter was smiling as if he’d enjoyed the little drama playing out before him. Zane sat down as they continued to discuss possible ways the account could be traced and took a moment to regather his composure. He was trying, but no matter how hard he thought of the possible danger ahead he couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that he’d be spending an awful lot of time with her in the coming days. Time that he could use to figure out the enigma that was Glory Winters, and to try to get to the bottom of their connection.

Able moved around Glory’s desk, catching Zane’s eye. He jerked his head toward the window, indicating that Zane should come over so they could talk. Curious, Zane rose and tried to seem casual so he wouldn’t draw Glory’s attention since Able seemed to want to keep this encounter private. Crossing his arms over his chest, Zane stared at the dark windows of the general store down the street. All the buildings in this area of town were humble and modest, except for Victoria House.

“I know what you’re doing,” Able said, he stood so close that Zane could smell peppermint on his breath.

“And what is that?” Zane asked without looking at him.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Zane couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the older man to see if that was jealousy in his voice. He’d always assumed that the relationship between Glory and Able was more of a familial connection. No, not jealousy. Concern and protectiveness were shining in Able’s eyes. “And?” He couldn’t help but prod.

“And she’s not here for your amusement. Don’t think you’re the first one to come in here and leave a besotted fool. I’ve been told about the betting book at the gentleman’s club across town.” Able sneered as he said the term gentleman as if the word couldn’t be further from the truth. Zane had to concede the man was right. He’d been in Helena a handful of times and never come across an actual gentleman, despite the fancy clothes some of the men wore.

The book Able referred to was notorious for having outrageous bets. They ranged in scope from the size of a heifer’s first calf to the price of gold at some specified date in the future to the color of a particular lady’s undergarments. Zane had heard of the particular bet Able referred to. A few fine upstanding men of Helena had wagered on which one of them would be the first to bed Glory. He didn’t doubt it was real. Anger burned in his belly as he thought of them betting on her. “Let me ask you something, Able... You ever seen that book yourself?”

Able gave him a stony look. Zane held his hand up against the window. Dim light streamed in from the street, backlighting his hand so that his skin appeared very dark, though not as dark as Able’s. Neither of them would be welcomed in that particular club. “I don’t have a bet in that book.”

“You don’t have to have a bet in that book to see her as a challenge,” Able countered.

“I’ve known her for years and I’ve never once been disrespectful to her. Why would I start now?”

“Like I said, I see how you look at her and I can guess your thoughts. Keep your hands to yourself and we won’t have any problems.” With those words, Able walked away to rejoin Hunter and Glory’s conversation.

Zane stayed at the window, trying to get his racing heart under control. He wanted to tell Able that it wasn’t like that, but it would be a lie. He wanted to bed her just as badly as any of those other men. As he stood there, seething from Able’s rebuke, he was having a hard time figuring out what exactly separated him from those other men. He couldn’t have anything with her aside from a quick tumble in bed.

He was an outlaw. While the gang would likely disperse because they’d found the enemy who’d brought them all together to start with and Castillo and Hunter were both recently married, it didn’t change the fact that Zane was still a wanted man. While it was unlikely he’d be tracked down all the way to Helena, it was always possible. He had nothing to offer her.

Aside from that, loving Christine had taught him a harsh lesson that he would never forget. There wasn’t enough love in the world to keep a person from betraying another. Eventually love ran out, or something more important came along. He didn’t want any sort of relationship that involved anything more than physical pleasure. Once had been enough. It wasn’t worth the eventual pain.

So no, he couldn’t offer her more than any of those men planned to offer her. But he could respect her. None of those gentlemen would give her that. It wasn’t much, but it was enough of a distinction that he felt a little better. He would keep his hands to himself, but only if she wanted him to. It would always be her choice, and if she chose to spend a night or two with him, then Able would have to accept that.

Chapter Five

Glory didn’t know how it had happened, but she’d somehow reverted to the role of thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Zane stood across the room, leaning against the window molding as he watched her. Hunter and Able had just left, so they were very much alone. Butterflies fluttered in her belly, and her hand went to her stomach to calm the wild beatings of their wings. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, wasn’t doing anything but looking at her, and she couldn’t seem to keep hold of the thoughts wandering around her head.

Gripping the solid edges of her desk, she tried to keep her hold on reality. This was still her home and she was still in charge. “Thank you for staying,” she said, doing her best not to look directly at him. Her hands as flighty as her thoughts, she shuffled some papers around on her desk until they were all precisely lined up.

Zane took his time walking back over to the chair across from her. The man moved as if he wasn’t well over two hundred pounds. He was all sinew and strength, but without the lumbering that sometimes came with that muscle. “Can I see the letter for myself?” he asked when he’d taken a seat in the wingback chair across from her.

She nodded and handed it over without touching him. If he thought her behavior odd, he didn’t mention it as his gaze skimmed over the letter. She couldn’t help but watch him as he did so. He wasn’t classically handsome like Hunter, but his ruggedness and quiet intensity, combined with his even features, somehow made him even more attractive. At least to her. She’d never cared for the look of a polished gentleman. She’d had that before and knew the treachery often hidden in the perfect package.

Zane was real. Her gaze touched the high arch of his cheekbones, the tiny lines around his eyes, and the strong line of his jaw. For the first time she wondered how old he was. He didn’t have the deeper lines that came with age, but his eyes seemed intelligent in a way that made her think he’d seen a lot in his life. She respected that. Most of the men who came into Victoria House had struck it rich because they’d gotten lucky with a claim to a mine. They thought luck and money somehow translated to being clever and knowledgeable.

Zane was different. Something told her that he’d lived more than almost all of them. He glanced up from the letter, and she wasn’t able to look away before he caught her watching him. She offered him a slight smile in the hopes that he thought her interest was only casual. But when he spoke, she couldn’t stop herself from watching his full lips shape each word. “You’re sure that no one here knows who you are?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never told anyone. Only Able knows.”

“What about Clara? Would he have told her?”

She realized now why he’d waited for Able to leave to begin this line of questioning. “No, Able knows how important it is to keep our secret. He wouldn’t tell her.”

Zane raised a brow, looking doubtful. “She’s his wife. Don’t you think she’d want to know about his past?”

It wasn’t an illogical question, but Zane didn’t know why they’d run or what was at stake. If he did, he’d understand that no one could know. Able stood to lose just as much as she did. “I trust Able. Besides, he doesn’t want our secrets to get out any more than I do. The consequences are...too much.”

His jaw clenched and she wasn’t certain if it was because he was angry at her or the situation. She didn’t know him well enough to say, a detail that was as fortunate as it was regrettable. Some long-buried part of her wanted to know him. To really know who he was as a person, as someone she could trust...as a man. That last thought made her belly flutter again, forcing her to look away. He was so astute, she had no doubt he would know what she was feeling.

“You don’t think Able would—”

“No!” Despite herself, she met his gaze fully, determined to extinguish any suspicion against Able. “He wouldn’t betray me.”

“I wouldn’t think so, but we have to consider all options.”

She shook her head more firmly. “He wouldn’t do this. He’d have no motive anyway.”

“Five thousand dollars is a lot of motive.”

She scoffed. “Trust me, Able doesn’t need the money.”

“No? He’s married now and has a baby on the way. He might not have needed the money but things change.” He paused, adding in a softer voice, “Love has a way of changing people.”

He looked so resolute when he said that, that she wondered from what sort of experience he was speaking. He had a quiet, almost dangerous appeal that would attract many women, but she couldn’t imagine the hard man across from her being tender enough to have ever experienced an emotion as sentimental as love. She’d seen his loyalty to Hunter and Castillo and conceded that it was a type of love. A brotherhood. But it wasn’t romantic love and she couldn’t see him ever allowing himself to experience that.

“I suppose it can, but in this instance it hasn’t.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Because Able has all the money he could want,” she explained.

Zane sat back as he mulled over her words. “He does have fine clothes. Satin waistcoats. Wool suits. I always thought it was part of the uniform required to work here. I didn’t realize that he was so well compensated.”

“It is a requirement of the position, but you’ve got it all wrong. He doesn’t simply work here. He’s part owner of Victoria House.” Correctly reading the shocked expression on his face, she said, “You’re surprised.”

“A little.”

“It’s understandable. Everyone assumes I’m the sole owner and we let them think that because it’s easier. When we first arrived here... Well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Able.” That was an understatement. She’d be dead by now if not for Able. It was because of him that she’d left South Carolina and ended up in Helena, though the Helena part had been serendipity. “Able and I worked hard together to make Victoria House what it is today. When the madam retired she left it to us both.”

While Glory kept up the running of the business side of things, Able took care of the house itself. He knew everyone in it and where they were at any given time. He made sure there was never any trouble with the patrons. The letter must be a particular sore spot for him since it had appeared on his watch.

Zane studied her for a minute. There was no doubt that he was merely trying to read her expression, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought when he looked at her. She stilled for his visual perusal but felt her cheeks go warm. Finally he took pity on her and glanced back down at the letter. She had to stop herself from letting out an audible breath of relief.

“The sender mentioned knowing your real name.” Zane paused, but she didn’t say a word. If he wanted to ask her about her real name, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Not that she’d tell him. The corner of his mouth ticked up as if he realized what she was doing. “Does Able also have a real name?” he asked, apparently deciding not to rise to her challenge.

She nearly laughed to herself, starting to enjoy this play between the two of them. “He does. We never really intended to stay in Helena. The stagecoach we were traveling on had a broken axle. We managed to make it as far as the station, but there’d been another silver strike, so the driver ran off to make his fortune. Apparently so had every other man in town, because the madam came down to the station asking for any able-bodied men to help repair her leaky roof.”

She did smile then, remembering how afraid she’d been that they had nowhere to go and their funds had been dwindling. They’d come a long way since then. “Able stood up and declared himself, well, able. So Able he became. She took us in after that. Thank God she did. We had nowhere else to go.”

“And you became Glory?” He gestured toward her hair.

She inclined her head. The madam had taken one look at her dark red hair and called it her crowning glory. Many of the patrons had started referring to it that way as well, so the name Glory had stuck.

“And no one else knows your real name except Able?” he concluded.

“Able didn’t leave this letter.”

Zane gave a hesitant nod, as if not quite willing to give up that line of questioning, but realizing it wouldn’t get him anywhere at the moment. She nearly smiled again. Let him stew. The one thing she knew with certainty in this whole mess was that Able wasn’t responsible for the letter. Extortion wasn’t in his character.

“Do you think it could be someone else from Victoria House?” he asked.

“I hate to think so. We’re like a family here. My ladies are loyal.”

“And you’re certain none of them know who you are?”

“None of them know,” she said quietly. “Only Able.”

“Well, I suppose that’s it then. We’ll see what we can find out from the staff tomorrow.” He clapped his hands to his knees and made to stand.

“What happens now?” she asked. If they were done with questions, she needed to go back downstairs to finish work for the night. The singer she’d hired for the evening should be almost ready to go on. “I have work to do, but you’re welcome to go collect your things and move them to my suite.”

He gave a shake of his head and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I go where you go.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. She knew what she thought he meant, but surely he didn’t actually mean that.

“I don’t trust whoever left this not to try to get to you. Able or I need to be with you at all times.”

His words nearly knocked the wind out of her. “At all times? Even in my own house?”

His smile widened as if he was enjoying this. “Get used to me, Glory. I’m going to be around. A lot.”

Sweet Lord above, she was in trouble.

* * *

The main lounge was the largest room in the house. It had been intended as a ballroom with a large chandelier gracing the ceiling in the center of the sizable space, flanked by two smaller ones on either side. They were the only original feature of the house left behind when the owner had sold it to the previous madam. The slivers of faceted glass, not crystal, flickered in the light of hundreds of candles, making it look like crystal. When the town had changed over to electricity several years earlier, Glory had opted not to change the chandelier. She loved the antique feel. Sometimes she closed her eyes and imagined she was in a grand London ballroom and a handsome gentleman would sweep her up into a waltz. But then she’d open her eyes to realize she was in Helena, where the gentlemen were in short supply. They might say all the right words, but they were all only interested in things that sparkled—gold, silver and copper—and she couldn’t afford to forget that. Maybe that’s how all men became once they reached a certain level of wealth. She couldn’t honestly say for sure. She’d lived in her cocoon at Victoria House since she was sixteen.

The one thing she did know for sure was that even if a proper gentleman from London were to walk in, he’d have little interest in a brothel madam. Well, little interest beyond the physical. Not that it mattered to her. She’d had her chance at marriage and it hadn’t worked out. Now she knew that it wasn’t something that interested her. She liked her independence too much to ever give it up. It meant a lot of lonely nights, but the payoff was worth it.

The song ended, bringing Glory back to the present as the room broke out into polite applause. She smiled as she took to the dais to thank Sally and address the crowd. “I’d like to extend my thanks once again to Mrs. Sally Roarke for gracing our little corner of the world with her beautiful voice.”

The older lady inclined her head, and the men applauded again coupled with a few suggestive whistles. Sally was a favorite at Victoria House and made the trip about twice a year from St. Louis where she lived. None of the men seemed to realize she was the same Mary Walker who had worked here years before Glory had taken over.

When Sally had given a curtsy and waved her way out, Glory addressed the room again. “That’s all the entertainment for the night, gentlemen. The house will be closing soon, so please make your final drink selections.”

There were ten women working upstairs tonight. Most of them seemed to have already found patrons for the evening, but a couple were talking to men in the lounge. When Glory had taken over she’d brought in plush sofas and divans worthy of her previous life on a plantation. She’d also scattered tables throughout to encourage conversation, which encouraged drink sales.

“What if my final selection includes you?” A disembodied male voice called from a table of men in the far corner.

Glory didn’t pay him any attention as she left the small stage. It wasn’t unusual for the random man here or there to try to buy her time, though it was common knowledge that she wasn’t for sale. Instead of replying, she focused on speaking to the few regulars in the audience. It was her ritual. She’d thank them for coming out, make conversation and move on to the next table, working the room before she retired for the evening.

She had never been as aware of another person as she was aware of Zane lurking in the background as she worked. He hadn’t imposed or even really made his presence known. He’d taken a seat out of the way to blend in with the other customers, and he’d been a fixture in the house all week so no one even noticed him, but she could feel him. His gaze was like the lightest of weights pressing into her skin, massaging over her and leaving her warm and tingly in ways that were equally as disturbing as they were pleasurable. She didn’t know what to do with the sensation, so she settled on ignoring it in the hopes that it would go away.

It never really did though, and as she made her way upstairs to retire for the night, she knew without looking that he’d followed her out the door. His large presence followed her up the stairs and down the hallway. She felt him pause behind her as she unlocked her door. Her eyes drifted shut as she took in his scent, a mix of leather and man. She couldn’t describe it other than that. He smelled rugged and dangerous and it was all appealing in a very confusing way.

Pushing her door open, she stepped inside and held it for him. She managed to give him a small smile that she hoped was welcoming. It was so odd to have a man in her private suite. Able was the only man in recent memory she could remember ever being inside.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” she asked when she’d closed the door behind him and locked it. He was already across the room, checking the bathing chamber and her bedroom for the anonymous letter writer.

“Yes,” was all he said.

Finished prowling for strangers lurking in the shadows of her bedroom, he walked back over to her. His brow was furrowed and his shoulders seemed stiff. “Do men always talk to you that way?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“That ass who wanted to...” His jaw clenched as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“You mean the man who wanted to take me upstairs.” Some small part of her warmed at the thought of him being upset about the question. It was an unreasonable way to feel. She and Zane meant nothing to each other, so he had no reason to feel upset about it. But still, it was nice to have his concern. “It’s part of the job.” She shrugged.

The muscle in his jaw worked as he looked away. It was clear that he didn’t like that part of the job.

Deciding it was best to change the subject, she followed his gaze to the sofa. “I’m sorry that I’m not really set up for guests.” She gestured to the small parlor that was equipped with a sofa and a couple of chairs. A dining table and a small kitchen area with an icebox took up the far corner of the space. “If you’re hungry, I can offer you bread and jam.” She shrugged in apology at her meager offerings. She usually took her meals down in the kitchen.

“I’ve already eaten supper.” He voice was strong and calm. The fact that he seemed a little less lost than her in this arrangement somehow set her at ease. “You seem anxious,” he said, raising a brow at her.

She nodded. Having a giant of a man, especially one that she was so attracted to, standing in her private space would do that. “It’s strange for me to have someone else here.”

“Go about your evening as if I’m not here. You don’t have to wait on me.”

Easier said than done. Often she ended her nights with a long hot soak in the tub, but she didn’t see that in her future tonight. It felt strange to be naked with him in the next room. She couldn’t even think of doing that without blushing.

Instead of commenting on that, she said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a cot for you. You can take the sofa. Tomorrow I can have a bed moved in.”

He was shaking his head before she’d finished. “No, we don’t want to rouse suspicion. Hopefully it’ll be just a night or two and we can get the matter settled without anyone realizing I’m here.”

Gossip traveled like wildfire through the house, so Glory very much doubted they’d be able to accomplish this arrangement without someone finding out, but she kept that opinion to herself. They’d deal with whatever problems arose when they had to. “Right. I’ll get you some blankets.”

She escaped to the safety of her room and opened the chest at the end of the bed. Pulling out the extra quilt that she used in winter to double up her blankets, she grabbed the second pillow from her bed and headed back to the main room. She had to force herself to let go of the breath she’d been holding when she saw Zane taking off his coat. His button-down shirt was stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and the muscles in his arms flexed as he moved, straining against the fabric.

This man was all physical power. She usually found that unappealing, preferring the efficient slimness required to properly wear a suit on the male form, but with Zane… She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself not to think about the tingling warmth spreading across her skin. It was best to keep her mind solely on the problem at hand. In this case his powerful form was the problem, because she had no idea how he was going to fit on her sofa. It wasn’t dainty by any means, and she’d fallen asleep on it often enough reading to know that it was comfortable, but he was just so big.

“Sorry again.” She dropped the quilt and pillow onto the sofa, casting a long look at the piece of furniture. “I’m not certain you’ll fit.”

To her surprise he gave her a smile—a real smile that lit up his whole face—as he draped his coat over the rolled arm of the sofa and sat down. His arms were spread across the back, taking up nearly the entire length of the piece of furniture. “I’ll make it work, pretty lady.”

His smile, coupled with the intensity of his gaze on her face, made her wonder if he was making a double entendre. She should’ve been outraged or at least affronted, but she found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He’d always teased her, not put off by her confidence or the fact that she was in charge, and, most important, he never made her feel like he was insulting her or disrespecting her. Perhaps that was why she liked his teasing comments and the few times he’d used that nickname for her. They made her feel earthy and real, not the porcelain queen this place sometimes made her out to be because of the role she played.

Before she could respond, a slim leather-bound book slipped out of his coat pocket to land with a thud on her rug. She recognized it as his sketchbook, as it landed on its spine and fell open. The page was upside down, but it looked to be a drawing of a woman with a very revealing slit in her dress that exposed nearly her entire leg.

She’d seen him a few times at the bar writing or drawing in it—she’d never been able to get close enough to take a look—but then last week she’d searched his room. She’d been looking for an answer to why he was hiding out at Victoria House, in case the reason put her staff in danger, but instead she’d found that book. Flipping through it, she’d expected to find secret plans about God only knew what, but instead she’d found his drawings. Most of them were of places she assumed he’d been: buildings, farmhouses, desert and mountain landscapes; but some of them had been of women. Very nude women.

An unreasonable surge of jealousy crept over her as she stared at the woman in the drawing. She wasn’t jealous because he’d obviously been with those women. She was jealous because she could never be one of them. It wasn’t even a question of emotional attachment or her running a brothel and him being an outlaw.

It was because she was broken. Irrevocably. Her skin prickled hot and then cold at the unwanted reminder of why she could never be with him the way a normal woman could.

They seemed to come to their senses at the same time and both bent down to retrieve the book. She touched it first, but his larger hand covered hers. Surprised, she looked up and his face was only inches away. She’d never been this close to him. She could count his short black eyelashes and smell the pleasingly faint hint of whiskey on his breath. They were so close she could feel how solid he was just from their proximity.

“Sorry,” she managed to whisper, drawing her arm back and rising. She meant to make a joke about the drawing, to say something about obscenities not being allowed in her suite, but she couldn’t say anything. When she opened her mouth, absolutely nothing came out except another breath she’d been holding. Deciding to retreat while her dignity was still intact, she inclined her head. “Good night, Mr. Pierce.”

Whirling away, she left him for the comfort and familiarity of her bedchamber. After she locked her door, she pressed her back against the cool wood. How was she ever going to get through the next few days with Zane being so close? Hopefully Hunter would find the person responsible for the letter very soon.

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