The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 (24 page)

“Can I shoot him now?” John snapped.

Declan was about to offer his own pistol when a shot rang out from outside. The three of them looked at each other and then scrambled to their feet. He burst out the door and glanced around, anxious to find the origin of the shot. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the twilight that had fallen.

When he could finally see, his heart dropped straight to his feet. Drummond and Parker held Jo between them, pistols aimed at her head.

Chapter Ten

The two men gripped her arms so tightly, she was certain to have deep bruises. Her stomach had shriveled up into a ball and resided somewhere near her throat. Jo stared at Declan, fear racing through her veins. His expression was cut from stone, hard and unyielding.

“How dare you walk onto our property and threaten my sister? I order you to release her at once.” Francesca put her hands on her hips and raised her chin.

The men ignored her while Jo wanted to applaud her.

“I took your shit and gave you money for a month. Now you hurt my woman? I’ll send ye back to the bowls of hell, ye mangy curs.” Declan’s brogue was as thick as the promised violence in his face.

“Who are you?” John had a rifle in his hand, pointed at the ground.

“Callahan owes us money.” Drummond smelled of sour sweat and musk. The scent made her gag.

“I owe you a hole in the ground and a hole in your head.” Declan’s hand stayed firm on the pistol riding his hip.

Parker twitched every few seconds, which made her more nervous considering his finger was near the trigger of the big pistol in his hand. She had to think, but it was hard. Jo wanted to find a logical way out of the situation without having bullets enter her body.

“That ain’t the way to go, you dumb bag of bones. I know you got more money.” Drummond pressed the nose of the gun harder against her skull.

Jo inwardly winced, but she didn’t allow herself to flinch. There was no need to let the men know how scared she was. Throughout history, men had used force to control women. This was an historical fact she was very familiar with. She refused to allow herself to fall prey to their threats.

Declan growled. “Let her go.”

“No, I don’t think so, Callahan. She dies if you don’t give over the cash.” Drummond was well spoken for a criminal.

“If you kill her, you’ve got two men who will stain the dirt with your blood two seconds after you pull that trigger.” John’s graphic description and the controlled fury in his voice did more to scare Jo than the guns to her head.

“I’m not leaving here without my money.” Drummond took a step back, pulling her with him. “Or I take her with me and sell her to a slaver.”

“That is reprehensible! Why would you perpetuate a problem like slavery?” Jo jerked her arms and freed her left arm from Parker. She swung wildly and smacked him in the nose.

He squawked and put his hands on his face, stumbling backwards. That was the opportunity she needed. Jo dropped to her knees and punched Drummond in the testicles as hard as she could.

“Bitch!”

Several shots rang out and two bodies fell to the ground beside her. She covered her head and waited for the smoke to clear. The pungent scent of gunpowder decorated the air. A hand reached out and touched her elbow.

“Lass?”

Jo jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Declan. His warm, hard body was simply wonderful and safe. She shook as the adrenaline rushed around her body.

“I guess she’s not mad at him anymore.”

“John, let them alone. We must focus on the bodies on the ground, not on my sister,” Frankie tutted at her husband.

“Lass, I’m sorry,” Declan whispered in her ear. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

She couldn’t yet find the words to say. How could she? Death had just knocked on her door and the one person she wanted to touch was the person who had cast her aside. Love didn’t care about lies, it simply was. Jo breathed in his scent, trying to erase the smell of gunpowder and blood. She’d had enough of both to last a lifetime.

Jo was torn between the need to punish him for letting her go and the need to be in his arms forever. In the end, she had no answer, and her heart was empty.

Declan and John put a tarp in the back of the wagon the Malloys had purchased for supply trips. This time the cargo was more grisly. After loading the bodies, John put two shovels and a pickaxe beside them and secured the gate.

He hadn’t spoken to Declan since they’d killed Drummond and Parker. That was okay with Declan because it would make it easier to leave. On the other hand, it was hard since he considered John his first friend in life. A man who had given him a chance, and now Declan had failed him.

“We’ll head over to the river and bury ’em. Nobody is gonna find them there.”

Declan stared straight ahead. “No law to notify?”

John snorted. “Nothing to speak of yet. There’s marshals, but they’re stretched too thin to do much. Besides, this was justified, and nobody is going to care these two sons of bitches are gone.”

Declan couldn’t argue with that. Fort John was better off the moment they left. Hell, the world was better off the moment they truly left. He didn’t know why men were driven to do evil. He could argue greed or lust, but everyone experienced those urges. No, it was something else, something deeper and darker. He didn’t know if that lived inside him or not, but he had committed some deep, dark deeds.

“How far is it?” Declan wanted to pull his mind away from his own sins.

“About ten miles.”

They set off without seeing the women again. Frankie had ushered her sister into the house and slammed the door. The evening was giving way to night, but Declan didn’t complain. Malloy had mounted a lantern on the corner of the wagon that threw enough light to see. He expected John had explored enough of the land around his property to know where he was going and what he’d run into along the way.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence, much to Declan’s consternation. His thoughts attacked him from all sides—doubt, self-loathing and misery amongst the top themes. He needed to break clean from Jo and leave her to a life where her husband wasn’t fake and her future wasn’t murky.

John pulled the wagon to a stop in an area with heavy brush and jumped down. Declan joined him and picked up the shovels.

“There’s a clearing over there.” John grabbed the pickaxe and the lantern. “Let’s go.”

Declan followed him, eager to get the burying over with. In the circle of light thrown by the lantern, they dug two graves. It was eerily similar to another grave they’d dug together.

“Thanks.”

John shrugged. “I’m doing this for Jo, not for you.”

“I figured.” Declan ignored the pain in his heart over the pain in his hands. “But I was saying thanks for taking care of her from now on. Her parents asked me to keep her safe, and I failed.”

John stopped shoveling long enough to level a glare at him. “If you hadn’t pretended to be her husband and then taken advantage of her, it might have worked out better.”

“I wanted to be her husband.” Declan hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but there it was.

“Then why don’t you marry her, you fool? She’s obviously in love with you, even if I can’t figure out why.” John went back to shoveling.

“I can’t take care of her. I have a black past. I don’t know how to make an honest living. Hell, I can’t even read and the woman is a walking library.” Declan couldn’t hide the self-disgust.

“All of that is a pile of shit. You can remake yourself and do whatever you want out here.” John gestured to the open air. “The West is a fresh start. We had this conversation already, remember? You were going to become Declan Malloy. Why not do it?”

Why not? There were a thousand reasons, not the least of which was Declan was afraid. He would fail her, they could starve, she could get sick again and this time not survive.

Declan shook his head, each moment a stab in his heart. “She deserves better than a thug from the gutters of New York with scarred knuckles and a stained heart.”

“Suit yourself, but I think you’re a goddamn fool if you let her go.”

“I ain’t gonna argue with you.” Declan slammed the shovel into the dirt, as if he could dig away his unhappiness.

The two of them worked in the soft, sandy soil until the graves were deep enough. Sweat dripped down Declan’s skin. He stuck the shovel in the pile of soil and sucked in some much-needed air. John wiped his forehead on a sleeve.

“Let’s get this finished and we can take a dip in the river to wash off the stench.”

Declan didn’t ask if it was the stench of the sweat, the dirt or the dead bodies. All of them crowded his senses, choking him. They carried the men one at a time, placing them into the crude graves. He wouldn’t look at their faces or allow guilt to plague him. Drummond and Parker had stolen from them, kept them captive and threatened Jo’s life. Hell, they’d marked her head with their pistols.

He wished he could kill them all over again.

With that bloodthirsty thought, he shoveled the dirt over the medic’s body. Drummond might have provided a service to the folks at Fort John, but he did more harm than good. No doubt Declan and Jo weren’t the first folks to be taken advantage of by the man. He had it good there, but greed must have driven him to chase them. Money had turned many men to the dark side of themselves.

Declan included.

They threw the shovels into the wagon, then headed to the river to wash. John held the lantern and led the way while Declan carried the tarp.

“Don’t go more than three feet out. There’s a drop-off and the current’s damn strong. I don’t want to go looking for your carcass in the dark.” John set the lantern on a rock and sat down to yank off his boots.

Declan stepped into the water without removing anything. He was covered in dirt and sweat, including the inside of his boots. The cool water lapped at him, rinsing away the grit and blood. He went out farther than three feet, ignoring John’s warning and his shout. Declan closed his eyes and let himself drop off the edge and into the swirling current.

“Callahan!” John’s hoarse shout preceded a hand yanking his collar so tight he couldn’t breathe. Then he was being hauled up on the bank of the river by a cursing, furious Malloy. “What the hell are you doing?”

Declan sucked in a much-needed breath before he answered. “Going for a swim. I’m filthy.”

“Looked to me like you were trying to permanently go for a swim.” John took off his sodden hat and slapped it against his leg, spraying water everywhere. “You stupid son of a bitch. You have a woman who loves you and you’re going to throw it away?”

Declan put his elbows on his knees, his gut churning. “It doesn’t matter what I do. I’m not the man for Josephine. She deserves better.”

“I’m done trying to knock some sense into that anvil head of yours. The wagon is leaving in two minutes. Be on it or be on your way.” John had never sounded resigned, in all the times he’d spoken to Declan. Until now. Declan didn’t know whether to be glad or weep because he’d just lost the one friend he’d made.

Jo sat in the small tub, the water long since cooled. Frankie left her alone, puttering around in the kitchen for a late dinner. The men would be back shortly and the curtain separating her from the main living area wouldn’t protect her for long.

Her thoughts tumbled around in her head, caught between wanting to forgive Declan and nursing the hurt he inflicted. If she were honest with herself, he tried to prevent her from consummating their faux marriage, but Jo didn’t listen. She initiated their joining and enjoyed every adulterous second of it.

She was going to hell in a thrice if she didn’t stop thinking about Declan’s body. Yet she couldn’t help but remember how he touched her, taught her pleasure and shared everything with her. She made a face. No, not everything. He forgot to share the part that he didn’t want a future with her.

Frankie poked her head around the side of the curtain. “That water must be cold,
cherie
. I have warmed a towel for you.”

Jo sighed. “
Oui, merci
.” She rose from the water and accepted the towel proffered by her sister. The soft cloth enveloped her, chasing away the chill from the air.

Frankie rubbed Jo’s arms, adding to her comfortable warmth. “Do you want to speak of what troubles you?”

“Declan.”

“Ah, well, this I did know. He is a man and they are trouble.” Frankie smiled. “In truth, I am grateful to him for nursing you, keeping you safe and bringing you here. I did not believe I would see you for years.”

The sisters shared a heartfelt hug and Jo had to blink back tears. She was happy to see her sister, more than she’d realized. Not being a female prone to emotions, she was in uncharted waters.

“I need to thank you for your hospitality. Without you, I would have been without a home.” She managed a shaky smile.

“There are no thanks required.” Frankie frowned; her green gaze had grown serious. “I cannot imagine what you have been through to arrive here. However, no matter how old we are or what has transpired, you will always have a home with us.”