Miracle Jones Read Online Free

flooded her. Was Uncle Horace all right? Was he even alive? The ruthless men who had abducted her were not above killing; she’d witnessed that with her own eyes. She had to struggle free. She had to!
    Footsteps sounded on the ladder. Miracle froze. There were other rooms in the barn loft; she’d heard voices through the walls. Praying these newcomers were headed elsewhere, she attacked the ropes with renewed vigor, but with a loud creak the locked door swung outward.
    Miracle’s mouth went dry.
    “An hour’s all ya paid for,” Jeb’s voice told the blond-headed man ducking inside.
    “An hour? That’s all?” the newcomer mumbled. He weaved forward and stumbled on a bale, swearing at his own clumsiness.
    “An hour!” Jeb bellowed after him. Cursing, he slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.
    Miracle scooted backward until her shoulders scraped the rough barn wall. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She stared at the man, wide-eyed.
    “Hullo,” he said. “Name’s Harrison. What’s yours?”
    She didn’t answer. If he was going to rape her, she wasn’t going to open her mouth until she could sink her teeth into his flesh.
    He came toward her on unsteady legs, dropping onto his side beside her. His familiar pose set her nerves screaming, but he said by way of apology, “Sorry. Can’t seem to keep my head up. We’re gonna have to work fast.”
    His hand brushed her leg. She stiffened and would have cried out had she not realized almost instantly that it was an accident. The man – Mr. Harrison – was truly drunk, she thought in disgust. But maybe his inebriation could work to her advantage…
    He shook his head, heard the bats, and squinted up at the rafters where they hung. “Friends of yours?”
    Some of Miracle’s fear faded away. At least he wasn’t a slobbering lecher. Neither was he full of evil, as Jeb was. Her skin crawled just thinking about Jeb. He’d killed Bushy Eyebrows without a qualm. She was half-amazed Gruff Voice hadn’t shot him in retribution. But thievery had strange rules, it seemed. While Miracle had been unconscious, Jeb and Gruff Voice must have somehow mended their rift. They’d apparently agreed to bring her here for their hundred dollars.
    A hundred dollars for one hour.
    Miracle’s blue eyes grew cold as a glacier at the thought. This man had paid a hundred dollars for a kidnapped woman! She narrowed her gaze at the chiseled lines of his face, the faintly curving lips. He was outrageously handsome, she thought inconsequentially, and for some reason it angered her all the more. Though obviously not of the same ilk as Gruff Voice and Jeb, this man was still dangerous and cruel. Oh, he was clean and handsome, with a thick patch of dark gold, sun-streaked hair that looked like burnished silk. But he was no better than his counterparts. Maybe even worse. He was the buyer, wasn’t he? Without him, the wretched highwaymen would never have been able to sell her.
    He grunted, tried to sit up, then swore and fell back down, his face whitening. Miracle’s attention was diverted. “Are you in pain?” she asked before she could help herself.
    “Damn shoulder. Nearly had my right arm cut off once.” He turned to her, his face very close. In the darkness she couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but they were clear and frank. “So you do speak.”
    She licked her lips. “You’re drunk,” she accused witheringly.
    “And then some, I’m afraid,” he admitted wryly. “You may have to help me. I’m not sure I’m going to be much good in this condition. Come on, we’ve got to hurry.”
    She was astounded by his arrogance. He thought she would be eager and willing and helpful! “How much did you pay for me?” she demanded frostily.
    He laughed. “A small fortune. Are you really as innocent as they claim?”
    “Is that what you paid for?”
    “Well – yes, I suppose so.”
    “Then you’re about to be sorely disappointed, Mr. Harrison,” she lied harshly.
    “Am