Linda Castle - Heart Of The Lawman

She took three steps and closed the distance between them. She slapped him hard across the face. The blow echoed like the crack of doom.

He grabbed her wrist and held it with enough pressure to still her. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked in a voice that was barely a whisper. “Here? Now? With everybody watching?”

Her eyes darted around the room.

A young man in a pin-striped suit, who had been carrying baggage through the lobby, stopped in his tracks and stared openmouthed. An elderly couple descending the stairs turned and hurried back up, whispering words of disgust and dismay.

She thought of Rachel, and a strangled sob escaped her lips. Marydyth had no reputation left.but her daughter—her sweet innocent daughter would have to live with the sting of rumor. Marydyth drew herself up and tried to find some dignity and pride within the hatred and anger she felt.

Flynn kept hold of her hand, noticing how raw and red it was. Her knuckles were barked and there was not an extra bit of flesh anywhere on her. She glared up at him through a blur of tears, and he felt the venom of her loathing.

“I hate you,” she whispered as if she had heard his thoughts and needed to make herself clearer. “I hate you more than anybody on God’s earth.”

A muscle in his lean jaw twitched.

“Do you hear me? I hate you for what you did to me.” Her voice was raspy and harsh. “You, the noble Marshal O’Bannion, had to find those Wanted posters, had to bring them to the court and let everyone know.” Her voice broke and she started to tremble.

He turned so quickly she had no time to do anything but let him pull her along. His boots dug into the carpet, and he dragged her toward the stairs while he maintained the viselike grip on her wrist. “Come on.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Yes…you are.” His husky whisper was like iron striking against stone. “We are going upstairs.”

Upstairs.

“I would rather die,” Marydyth said as she struggled against him.

“Don’t be a fool, Marydyth,” he said tunelessly.

It was useless. She was no match for his superior strength. He dragged her up the stairs as if she weighed no more than eiderdown. Desperation folded over her as she searched the faces of the people in the lobby.

She knew it would do no good to scream for help.

Nobody in the town would lift a finger to help her, especially not when they found out that she had come from Yuma. And the way she looked, compared to the austere respectability of Flynn’s appearance, also worked against her. She was nothing more than an ex-convict fresh from Yuma. It showed in her face and in her clothing. The residents of Tombstone were accustomed to seeing those convicts when they came out of the territorial prison. Once again, public opinion was condemning her.

The feeling that choked and strangled her during her nightmares engulfed her. She tried to remember to breathe, to slow down the frantic pounding of her heart.

She had lived through hell for three years—she could stand whatever degrading thing Flynn O’Bannion had in mind.

He forced her down the hallway to the last door and dug into his Levi’s pocket for a key.

He twirled her through the door. The momentum sent her backward across the made-up bed. “I hate you,” she repeated.

“So you’ve said.” His voice was as dry and hard as the walls of Yuma.

Panic threatened to undo her when he turned the key and locked the door.

“Open that door this instant” She sat up and faced him down. “You bastard.”

Barely contained fury glowed in his brown eyes. “I wouldn’t make a habit of calling me that if I were you.” His voice was steady and low, belying the turbulent expression in his eyes.

“Just get it over with,” she said. “Take what you want and get out.”

Flynn took off his hat and tossed it hard upon the bureau. “Son of a.” He turned and glared at her. “Is that what you think? That I brought you up here to.rape you?”

Her chin came up a notch. Defiance glowed in her eyes. “What other possible reason?”

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“Well, if you are not going to rape me, then let me out of here. I want to get Rachel and put as much distance as I can between me and this damned territory.”

His eyes widened. He raked a long-fingered hand through his hair and muttered another epithet. “We need to talk.”

“There is nothing we need to talk about, Marshal. Everything you needed to say was said in the courtroom.”

The reminder of the trial sent a strange jab of guilt through him. “My name is Flynn, and I’m not a marshal anymore so I suggest you stop calling me that.”

“If you are not the law, then you have no right to keep me here. Open the damned door. I am a free woman.”

“I know.” He took two long steps toward the bed. “Damn it all, Marydyth, I know about your release-I arranged it”

Icy hands squeezed her chest. “I don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself.”

With a vicious oath he turned and grabbed the straightbacked chair with one hand and spun it around backward. Then he hooked one leg over and straddled the seat, staring hard at her while he did it.

Her rapid intake of breath sent chills skittering over his arms. He didn’t want to fight with her. Flynn dragged in a deep breath and started again.

“The governor commuted your sentence. But that isn’t why I am here.” He had intended to tell her all the details of the letter and explain how everything had come about, but the look in her eyes changed his mind.

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