скачать книгу бесплатно
The Outlaw's Redemption
Renee Ryan
Who would guess the most formidable adversary former gunslinger Hunter Mitchell ever faced would be a fiery, violet-eyed female?Now that he’s served his time, Hunter intends to claim the daughter he only just discovered. While the law is on his side this time, his daughter’s devoted aunt certainly isn’t. Annabeth Silks can’t bear to let a one-time outlaw take little Sarah.As the daughter of an infamous madam, she knows the hardship of an unstable home. But every glimpse of Hunter’s reformed character dares Annabeth to look beyond his past…to the family and future she never thought to find.
CLAIMING HIS CHILD
Who would guess the most formidable adversary former gunslinger Hunter Mitchell ever faced would be a fiery, violet-eyed female? Now that he’s served his time, Hunter intends to claim the daughter he’s only just discovered. While the law is on his side this time, his daughter’s devoted aunt certainly isn’t.
Annabeth Silks can’t bear to let a onetime outlaw take little Sarah. As the daughter of an infamous madam, she knows the hardship of an unstable home. But every glimpse of Hunter’s reformed character dares Annabeth to look beyond his past…to the family and future she never thought to find.
“I’ve changed, Annabeth.”
Although he spoke very deliberately, with his jaw tight, it wasn’t hostility she saw in his eyes but some sort of murky promise, something that went beyond words, something personal and solely between them.
“Hunter.” She sucked in a hard breath. “I don’t think—”
“Stop, Annabeth. Stop arguing with me and let me finish.” With a move so swift she didn’t see it coming, he took hold of her hand.
His touch was somehow comforting.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. Warmth spread up her arm.
“I’m not going to hurt Sarah.” He moved closer, too close, and added, “Or you.”
She snatched her hand free, her fingers curling into a fist. “Words, Hunter. Those are just words.”
“Then here are some more words for you to consider. No matter your motivation, I won’t let you stand between my daughter and me.”
RENEE RYAN
grew up in a small Florida beach town. To entertain herself during countless hours of “lying out,” she read all the classics. It wasn’t until the summer between her sophomore and junior years at Florida State University that she read her first romance novel. Hooked from page one, she spent hours consuming one book after another while working on the best (and last!) tan of her life.
Two years later, armed with a degree in economics and religion, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park, a modeling
agency and a cosmetics conglomerate. She moved on to teach high-school economics, American government and Latin while coaching award-winning cheerleading teams. Several years later, with an eclectic cast of char acters swimming around in her head, she began seriously pursuing a writing career. She lives in Savannah, Georgia, with her own hero-husband and a large fluffy cat many have mistaken for a small bear.
The Outlaw’s Redemption
Renee Ryan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
And He said unto me, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”
—2 Corinthians 12:9
To my older brothers, Bill, Bob and Noot,
for teaching me how to hold my own in a family
full of alpha males. I’ll never know how to throw
a punch (thanks for sparing me from that), but
I certainly know how to rely on someone who can.
I love each of you with all my heart.
Contents
Chapter One (#u0a758161-e384-5fe6-b5f2-289d81e1783e)
Chapter Two (#ua5342a3b-ed85-5fda-b646-57293be6b965)
Chapter Three (#uf2ef553e-3cc8-557c-92fb-37194bb1a7a0)
Chapter Four (#u01144e6d-6849-5d74-a2cc-1b00bbde80fc)
Chapter Five (#ufc85c8d3-03d1-58e7-844e-f723fec6c823)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Denver, Colorado, 1890
Hunter Mitchell was a free man. After two years of hard labor and endless nights of soul-searching, he’d paid his debt to society. His life was once again his own. Countless possibilities awaited him.
And yet, here he stood but a stone’s throw away from where his downward spiral had first begun.
Long before the judge had sentenced him to prison, Hunter had vowed never to return to this house of sin owned by the notorious Mattie Silks. Two years ago he’d made an exception, to take another man’s life.
So much regret. So much hurt.
Just when he thought the worst was behind him, and would stay that way, his past had caught up with him again.
Lips pressed into a hard, flat line, Hunter rolled his shoulders and considered his next move. The most obvious course of action would be to storm through those ridiculously ornate doors and demand what was his. Take what was his.
He had the right. No one would argue that. But Hunter had learned to be a cautious man.
Mattie could have lied to him in her letter. She’d done so before. For no other reason than to see how far she could push a man. What the surly madam didn’t realize was that Hunter was no longer susceptible to her games. He knew Mattie’s well-guarded secret, a secret he wouldn’t hesitate to use against her if she tried to toy with him.
Red-hot determination coiled in his gut. Hunter would get the truth out of the woman tonight.
No mistakes.
No loss of control.
Calm. Cool. Careful.
Melting into the shadows, he blew into his cupped palms. The air had taken on a cold, nasty bite. Hunter couldn’t help but feel he was being watched, a remnant of his former life when he had to look over his shoulder wherever he went. But those days were over, the members of his former gang either dead or living in Mexico.
His breath formed a fine mist around his head, adding a sinister feel to what he’d come here to do.
And yet, and yet, he felt a sliver of hope building inside him. Hope for the future, hope that he could become the godly man he’d once been. And maybe capture some stability along the way.
He lowered his hands and stepped in the direction of the brothel’s threshold. The physical act of moving brought the rest of the world into focus. Sights, sounds, the smells of stale liquor and wet horse flooded his senses.
Music drifted out of the brothel’s open windows. The bawdy songs suited the raucous laughter and coarse shouts. Golden light called to Hunter, the soft glow promising warmth from the cold and a momentary respite from the constant loneliness that plagued him.
An illusion. Nothing but pain and regret followed a night with one of Mattie’s girls.
And Hunter had stalled long enough.
With single-minded focus, he shoved away his dark thoughts, then took the steps two at a time. As he shouldered into the vine-covered building, a sickening dread crept through his stomach.
Nothing had changed. Not the hideous decor. Not the musky odor of cigar smoke mingled with cheap perfume. Not the seedy clientele. The brothel wasn’t as bad as he remembered. It was much worse.
Mattie Silks was nothing if not obvious.
The gaudy red velvet furniture stood in stark contrast to the gold filigree wallpaper. Tasteless rugs with bold, floral prints covered the wood flooring. Vulgar paintings hung on the walls. Their vivid colors and shocking themes gave Hunter a new perspective on past sins.
Only recently back in the habit of praying, he lifted up a silent request.
Forgive me, Lord.
A simple prayer, born from a lifetime of bad choices and wrong living. Shaking free of the thought, Hunter stepped deeper into the brothel and caught sight of Mattie’s right-hand man striding toward him, a scowl on his mean, ugly face.
“Jack.” Hunter took in the big brute’s broad shoulders, flat nose and bad attitude. “Still the ever faithful servant, I see.”
Jack smiled in response, not a real smile, more a baring of teeth. “You were told to come by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well.” Hunter stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m here now.”
“Nevertheless.” Jack crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Miss Silks isn’t expecting you.”
“I say we let Mattie decide if she’ll see me tonight.”
Eyes locked with his, the big man dug in his heels. “She won’t like that you’ve come during business hours.”
Of course she wouldn’t like it. Neither did Hunter. But he wanted answers more than he wanted to appease a difficult woman like Mattie Silks. “Either you inform her I’m here, or I tell her myself.”
Finished with the standoff, Hunter started forward.
Jack stepped into his path. “Wait here.”
“Whatever you say.”
Frowning, Jack disappeared into the crowd.
Left to cool his heels, Hunter shifted out of the main traffic area and looked around. Business was booming.
He heaved a heavy sigh. The curvy blondes, willowy brunettes and pouty redheads perpetuated the cycle of sin and degradation. All had similar expressions on their faces, blank, distant, slightly separated from the moment, as if they’d given up hope a long time ago.
Hunter understood such brokenness, such pain. Understood all too well.
A small commotion broke out near the back of the room, saving him from further reflection. Low, excited murmurs filled the air, followed by a quick straightening of female shoulders, a widening of male eyes. All heads turned. A beat passed. And then...
Mattie made her entrance.
Dressed in a blue silk dress with layers of cream-colored, frothy lace, the infamous madam sauntered through the main parlor of her brothel like a queen lording it over her realm. She ignored everyone but Hunter.
With a half smile on her lips, she took her time crossing the room, striking a pose every fifth or sixth step. She carried a flute of champagne in her hand. A prop, nothing more. Mattie never indulged in alcohol, especially not during peak business hours.
