Harper St. George - An Outlaw To Protect Her

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.