Debbi Rawlins - Once a Rebel

Dare she turn her hand over, let his shaft rest against her palm? She wanted to, yet she wasn’t sure she had the courage.

“Do you want to touch me, Maggie?” Cord asked hoarsely.

She swallowed and nodded, but couldn’t seem to move.

He trailed his fingertips over her knuckles, his touch a light dusting. “Have you ever seen a man naked before?”

She widened her eyes at the outlandish notion, briefly met his gaze before hers flickered away. “No.”

He picked up her hand and turned it over, palm up. To her amazement, his hand wasn’t too steady. It made it easier to look at him, see the unexpected vulnerability in his face. See the slight tremble of his shoulders. He was actually trembling. Why? And then she met his eyes.

Without looking away from her, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, and then he wrapped her fingers around his smooth, hot manhood. She jumped at the initial touch, as if he’d scorched her, and then watched in awe as the trembling in his shoulders spread through his chest.

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Dear Reader,

It’s my hope that by now you’ve read about the fantastical journey of the two Winslow sisters, Reese and Ellie, in Once an Outlaw and Once a Gambler. The heroines and readers were transported to 1870s Deadwood. Now, in Once a Rebel, we return there with Cord Braddock, an ex-stuntman turned private detective who is searching for the two women. Since Cord is half Navajo Indian, the challenges he faces extend beyond traveling through time and falling for a virginal heroine.

Although I’m currently working on a contemporary story, I really hope there are more time-travel romances in my future. Hmm, I’m thinking logging in the Pacific Northwest or maybe even the early frontier of Alaska? Sometimes my mind is a dangerous place. Sure keeps me entertained, though. I hope this story does the same for you.

Happy reading!

Debbi Rawlins

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Debbi Rawlins lives in central Utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. It’s quite a change for a city girl, who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until four years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college she spontaneously left home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, she returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

13—IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS

36—EDUCATING GINA

60—HANDS ON

112—ANYTHING GOES…

143—HE’S ALL THAT *

160—GOOD TO BE BAD

183—A GLIMPSE OF FIRE

220—HOT SPOT **

250—THE HONEYMOON THAT WASN’T *

312—SLOW HAND LUKE *

351—IF HE ONLY KNEW… *

368—WHAT SHE REALLY WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS †

417—ALL OR NOTHING

455—ONCE AN OUTLAW ††

I would like to acknowledge that Once a Rebel

is a work of fiction and meant solely to entertain.

While I have paid close attention to historical

detail, now and then I may have stretched the

facts for the sake of the story.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

“MAD DOG MANSON still in the wind?” Cord Braddock asked casually as he pocketed the much-needed check he’d just received for his last job. Another messy divorce case. Yeah, the guy was cheating, and Cord had delivered the proof that would net the soon-to-be ex-wife a nice settlement. But if he had to spy on one more sleazy, lying dirtbag husband, he was gonna…

“No.”

“Who caught him?” His gaze shot to Leslie’s impassive face.

“No, you can’t have the job.” Slowly, she shook her head, her blue gaze firm and unwavering. Behind her on the beige office wall was a poster from one of her earliest movies.

“So no one else has bagged him yet.” Now, that was some serious money to be made. Enough for five months’ rent, five lease payments on Cord’s Porsche and next year’s gym membership.

“You’re a private detective, not a bounty hunter, and even if you were, I wouldn’t give you this one.” Leslie slid open her desk drawer and pulled out a strongbox where he knew she kept petty cash. “This is Manson’s third strike. He’s not coming in without taking down anything that moves.”

Yeah, Cord had his P.I. license now, even a gun and permit to carry it, but calling him a private detective was being too generous with the kind of jobs he’d been doing. “I’m not looking for easy.”

“You should be.” She gestured with a lift of her chin. “How’s the shoulder?”

“I want Mad Dog, Leslie.” Out of habit, or because she’d called attention to it, he flexed his injured shoulder. Today it didn’t hurt too much. “I’m dead serious about this.”

She leaned back in her creamy yellow leather chair and stared at him with a sympathy he found hard to stomach. Yet she wasn’t that unlike him. Chewed up and spit out by Hollywood when her use and youth had hit a wall. Still, she’d done okay for herself, invested well while she’d been making some dough, and then bought old man Barker’s detective and bail bonds agency.

Cord hadn’t been so smart. He’d spent the considerable money he’d made as a stuntman on cars and women as fast as he pulled in paychecks, too caught up in the good life to see that inevitably it would come to a crashing end. He pushed up from the too-small chair facing her and stretched out his legs. Nice office, but more chic than practical. Not that he knew anything about practicality. If he did, he’d give up the Porsche.

“Come on, Leslie,” he said smoothly, giving her his best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Leslie sighed. “No.”

Cord exhaled sharply and looked out the window at the blue California sky, marred only by the persistent gray smog that hung over the Valley. Maybe it was time to move. L.A. was expensive and crowded and toxic. But where would he go? Not back to Arizona. Certainly not back to the reservation. The mere thought sent a shaft of dread down his spine. He’d go back to begging on the streets of L.A. before he’d end up there again.

“I need work, Les, but not this nickel-and-dime stuff.”

“Even the small stuff pays the bills.”