seemed to have a strangle-hold on her future—and her happiness. And she needed to find a way to stop it—before it ruined her future with Kid.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Then, why did she have the feeling she wouldn’t be able to stop it?
When she reached town, she rode straight down main-street. She knew she asked for it, riding right out in the open, but she’d reached her limit with hiding.
And of course—just because she’d ridden straight out in the open—that would be the very moment the gunman would decide to show up in town.
Damn, she thought.
He’d actually come back—even after Hawk had him run out of town. Most knew better than to do that.
She spotted him, leaning against the post before she’d even reached the center of Main Street. When Kid got wind of this, he would tan her backside.
Even so, Kat smiled.
She had been feeling restless , lately. Now, she looked forward to a good fight.
Holsten didn’t move. Yep, she knew him by reputation. Kid had been right, again. She turned her pony toward the building, so she could dismount on the other side. She hated to use him for a shield. He didn’t deserve that. He’d become her best friend—but he might be the only shield she had.
She scowled. She couldn’t do it. Some would think this made her weak. But her pony had stayed in the thick of it for her—and she wouldn’t repay him by getting him shot—to protect her own hide.
She’d worn her leathers and stepped up to the boarded walk on soundless, moccassin’d feet, keeping the water trough between her and the gunman.
Silently, Kat stepped cautiously toward the side of a building. And that’s when she saw Kid in the shadows.
He always knew where to be, she thought. And when to be there.
Even so, he surprised her.
She jerked her head to the side, her eyes meeting his, everything went still, quiet, as though in strange kind of slowing. She heard the shot, felt something hot flash through her head, then all went black.
Chapter Seven
Out of the Past
Kat woke to the sight of Hawk leaning well toward her face. Not one of Kat’s favorite places to have him. Even as well as she had come to know him, fought beside him, she wanted to rear back, but the pain in her head made her groan.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” he growled near her face. “That bullet grazed your head. Meg said that if you hadn’t glanced over at Kid when you did—you’d have met your maker.” He scowled down at her. “Now, I know where you got that name. You have more lives than any cat I ever knew.”
Kat stared at him. He had it right. She had cheated death three—no—make that—four times—now.
She sensed someone near the other side, and even before she risked the pain to take a peek, she knew it wasn’t Kid.
Her gaze picked up Jake. Great. As if Hawk wasn’t enough, she thought. She licked her lips.
“What’s that make, now? Jake asked, “four times someone tried to kill you?” as if to press the point.
She scowled. She knew they were her family now. She’d never been as close to anyone. But—really—there still had to be a limit to what she’d take—even from family.
As if she needed a reminder that she had a bounty on her head.
Kat groaned with the force of the barrel that seemed to be rammed inside her skull. “Where’s Kid?” she whispered.
“That’s what we’d like to know?” Hawk growled, much too close for comfort.
Alarm raced through Kat. Her eyes flew wide, staring at Hawk for conformation. Pain ripped its way deep in the front of her face, stabbing around her eyes, and she fought the urge to vomit. “What do you mean?” she said. She glanced at Jake. “What does he mean?” She tried to move. Violent pain stole through her and blinded her, like having a knifepoint stuck in her brain. “Where’s Kid?” she whispered, unable to wrap her mind around their continued silence.
She opened her eyes, saw Hawk wince. And that did nothing to allay her
She couldn’t let that happen.
Then, why did she have the feeling she wouldn’t be able to stop it?
When she reached town, she rode straight down main-street. She knew she asked for it, riding right out in the open, but she’d reached her limit with hiding.
And of course—just because she’d ridden straight out in the open—that would be the very moment the gunman would decide to show up in town.
Damn, she thought.
He’d actually come back—even after Hawk had him run out of town. Most knew better than to do that.
She spotted him, leaning against the post before she’d even reached the center of Main Street. When Kid got wind of this, he would tan her backside.
Even so, Kat smiled.
She had been feeling restless , lately. Now, she looked forward to a good fight.
Holsten didn’t move. Yep, she knew him by reputation. Kid had been right, again. She turned her pony toward the building, so she could dismount on the other side. She hated to use him for a shield. He didn’t deserve that. He’d become her best friend—but he might be the only shield she had.
She scowled. She couldn’t do it. Some would think this made her weak. But her pony had stayed in the thick of it for her—and she wouldn’t repay him by getting him shot—to protect her own hide.
She’d worn her leathers and stepped up to the boarded walk on soundless, moccassin’d feet, keeping the water trough between her and the gunman.
Silently, Kat stepped cautiously toward the side of a building. And that’s when she saw Kid in the shadows.
He always knew where to be, she thought. And when to be there.
Even so, he surprised her.
She jerked her head to the side, her eyes meeting his, everything went still, quiet, as though in strange kind of slowing. She heard the shot, felt something hot flash through her head, then all went black.
Chapter Seven
Out of the Past
Kat woke to the sight of Hawk leaning well toward her face. Not one of Kat’s favorite places to have him. Even as well as she had come to know him, fought beside him, she wanted to rear back, but the pain in her head made her groan.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” he growled near her face. “That bullet grazed your head. Meg said that if you hadn’t glanced over at Kid when you did—you’d have met your maker.” He scowled down at her. “Now, I know where you got that name. You have more lives than any cat I ever knew.”
Kat stared at him. He had it right. She had cheated death three—no—make that—four times—now.
She sensed someone near the other side, and even before she risked the pain to take a peek, she knew it wasn’t Kid.
Her gaze picked up Jake. Great. As if Hawk wasn’t enough, she thought. She licked her lips.
“What’s that make, now? Jake asked, “four times someone tried to kill you?” as if to press the point.
She scowled. She knew they were her family now. She’d never been as close to anyone. But—really—there still had to be a limit to what she’d take—even from family.
As if she needed a reminder that she had a bounty on her head.
Kat groaned with the force of the barrel that seemed to be rammed inside her skull. “Where’s Kid?” she whispered.
“That’s what we’d like to know?” Hawk growled, much too close for comfort.
Alarm raced through Kat. Her eyes flew wide, staring at Hawk for conformation. Pain ripped its way deep in the front of her face, stabbing around her eyes, and she fought the urge to vomit. “What do you mean?” she said. She glanced at Jake. “What does he mean?” She tried to move. Violent pain stole through her and blinded her, like having a knifepoint stuck in her brain. “Where’s Kid?” she whispered, unable to wrap her mind around their continued silence.
She opened her eyes, saw Hawk wince. And that did nothing to allay her
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