Renee Ryan - The Lawman Claims His Bride

That didn’t mean he had to give the woman all the control.

Slanting a hard glance in her direction, he pushed past her and strode deeper into the room.

She was forced to follow him or stand staring at empty air.

It was a small victory, to be sure, but one he would use to his full advantage.

Unfortunately, his plans changed when his gaze landed on a chair off to his left—a very occupied chair. One of Mattie’s girls had yet to go to bed. Seemingly oblivious to his presence, she tugged absently at a loose thread on her dress.

Even with the glazed look in her eyes, Logan recognized the girl. Her name was Emily, no…Emma. She’d been a child when he’d left, barely thirteen. Her mother had raised her under this very roof. And all that that implied. By the way Emma was dressed, it was clear she was now a second generation “employee” of Mattie’s.

But that wasn’t the only thing that bothered Logan about the girl. With her slight build and pale blond hair, she looked a lot like Megan. Too much.

Logan experienced a moment of panic at the alarming similarities between the two, but quickly shoved the emotion aside. Unlike this girl, Megan had escaped her mother’s profession. She’d been given the chance to pursue a respectable life. With Logan. He would not let her down.

But what if he did? What if he couldn’t save her?

Mattie chose that moment to move back into his line of vision. Again, she stood too close. Again, he remained unimpressed. He wasn’t the green lawman anymore, the one who’d been taken off guard long enough to get another man shot.

“Just so we’re clear, Miss Silks.” He glared at the hand she’d rested on his sleeve. “I’m here for one reason only. To rescue Megan from her current…predicament.”

The madam smirked at him. “Your devotion is admirable.”

Her goading tone set him on edge. “Never doubt my loyalty. I will do anything.” He peeled away the fingers on his bicep, one claw at a time. “And I mean anything, to ensure Megan’s safety.”

“Well, then.” She perched on a nearby chair and folded her arms around her waist. “For once we have the same goal. Who would have thought?”

Who, indeed. As much as it galled Logan to admit it, even to himself, this woman—this brothel owner—could be the key to Megan’s freedom. Yet how could he trust such a person as this?

A jolt of helplessness whipped through him. But in the next moment, Trey’s words came back to him. The Lord will direct your way.

Was God at work even now? Could the Heavenly Father mean for Logan to ally himself with a woman like Mattie Silks? Even for a moment?

Logan was well versed in the Old Testament story of Rahab, the prostitute. God had used the most unlikely of women to help the Israelites defeat Jericho.

The Lord will direct your way…

For Megan’s sake Logan would try anything, including an unlikely alliance with a notorious madam. If only temporarily.

Swallowing his misgivings, he focused his thoughts on Megan, then addressed Mattie with a cool tone. “Look, Mattie, I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here to get information that will free Megan. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

To Logan’s utter surprise, the woman nodded. “You may rest easy, Marshal.” Her gaze turned serious. “I’ll do everything in my power to help your Megan.”

His Megan. Yes. She was his. She’d always been his. And always would be. “Good enough. First, I need to know how—” He broke off at the sound of rustling silk, only just realizing Emma was still in the room with them, openly listening to their conversation.

He grimaced at the girl.

Mattie’s gaze followed his. “Go to your room.” Her tone brooked no argument, but the girl didn’t budge.

A foolish mistake. One Mattie would surely punish her for later.

“I said leave,” Mattie ordered. “Or I’ll lock you in your room for two days without food.”

Logan knew the madam meant every word. Apparently, so did Emma. Shoulders hunched, eyes glued to her feet, she made her way toward the staircase leading to the second floor.

Mattie kept her hawklike gaze trained on the girl until she disappeared from sight.

Finished with the delays, Logan got straight to the point. “How did Megan end up in your private boudoir, when she’d come only to read to a sick woman?”

Mattie swung around, parked one fist on her hip and zeroed in on a spot just above his head. As she stood in that particular pose, ignoring him completely, Logan feared she wouldn’t answer his question. But then she flicked her hair off her forehead and focused on him once again.

“I moved her as soon I discovered Cole had arrived earlier than expected,” she said. “I wasn’t about to let that vile man get a glimpse of our dear girl.”

Logan pulled in a tight breath of air. “Why would you have worried about Kincaid seeing Megan?”

“Cole was one of my regulars. He had a penchant for…” Mattie cleared her throat. “Innocents.”

A wave of fury threatened to overwhelm him. For a blessed moment Logan let the anger come, let it flow through him and guide his next words. “If that was true, why didn’t you send her back to Charity House? Why move her to a place where he could easily get to her?”

Obviously used to dealing with angry men, Mattie held Logan’s stare without flinching. “Time was of the essence. I knew if Cole caught sight of her leaving, he might follow her. And then, well…” She held his gaze. “You understand my meaning.”

Yes, he did. It was her meaning that made it nearly impossible for Logan to think rationally. Too many terrible scenarios ran through his mind. “So you thought she was safe in your sitting room,” he said, forcing down his fury enough to avoid doing anything rash. Like shake the truth out of Mattie.

“That is correct.”

“Still doesn’t explain how Kincaid got to her.”

Mattie blinked. Then blinked again. “I had to leave her alone for a moment.”

Logan drew in another sharp breath. “Why would you do that?”

“Because a business matter required my attention.”

“What business matter?”

“I had to break up a fight between two of my girls.” She lifted her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I was gone no more than twenty minutes. When I returned, Cole was lying flat on his back with a knife stuck through his chest.”

Despite the growing urge to shake the woman, Logan made himself piece together the details in his mind. So far, Mattie’s story matched Trey’s. But there was a part of the tale where his friend had been unclear, a minor point that only Mattie could answer.

“Where was Megan when you first entered the room?”

Looking everywhere but at him, Mattie shifted to a spot just behind the chair. Only after the barrier stood between them did she continue. “Dig too deep into this murder, Marshal, and you may not like what you find.”

He scowled at the remark, wondering why she was warning him off. To protect herself? Megan? Or someone else entirely?

What did this woman know? Or rather, what was she refusing to tell him?

Only one way to find out. He kept his gaze on hers, reading every nuance in her body language, and repeated the question a second time. “Where was Megan when you entered the room?”

Mattie sighed in uncharacteristic resignation. “Lying on my settee, out cold.”

Shock rippled through his body, making him shudder. “She wasn’t on the floor?” Like he and Trey had assumed?

“Uh…no.”

Logan gaped at the woman for several heartbeats. Focus, he told himself. He had to focus on the facts. No more assumptions. No more mistakes. He had to think like a lawman. Not a man who’s greatest love had been attacked earlier tonight. “Tell me how Megan was positioned on the divan. Exactly.”