The Lady Takes A Gunslinger (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Barbara Ankrum
behalf. In fact, like the others in the room, it looked as if he was rather enjoying the whole spectacle. Some hero.
No, Lorna Lee wouldn't scream or cry, she decided. She'd simply brush past them with her head up and leave those two drunken baboons gaping after her. She could do that... couldn't she?
Grace snapped her fan open with a meaningful pop and started to her left. Shelby intercepted her, blocking her way, grinning down at her with foul breath. Backing up, she took an evasive step to her right. Deke, however, was faster and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him as if she weighed nothing. Her fan flew out of her hand and skittered across the bar. This time, she couldn't help the short yelp of fear that escaped her as he drew her up against his sweaty body.
"Let go of me!"
"C'mon, girly-girl. I ain't had nothin' sweet as you fer months. Ain't no use bein' coy. You come in here askin' for it."
She gasped. "I certainly did n—"
"I know you want me; I kin see it in them pretty blue eyes of yours."
Jerking her arm, she tried to free herself, but he was much too strong. He turned her around so her back was against him and his forearm was against her throat. One hand slid provocatively down in the direction of her breast. Desperate, she shoved her boot heel hard against his shin.
Deke yelped and hopped on one foot, letting loose with a string of expletives. This elicited a howl of laughter from the disreputable lot of men surrounding them, which only made him madder. " Damnation! Hold still, you little hellcat!" he roared.
Grace opened her mouth to scream for help, but her cry was cut off as Deke hauled her back to him and swung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She went numb with fear as the air whooshed from her lungs. She kicked wildly and pounded on his back with her fists. He seemed not to feel any of it. The crowd roared with laughter as he spun drunkenly, trying to regain his balance.
As the room whirled by, Grace felt her heel connect with something hard, followed by the sound of breaking glass and the collective gasp of the crowded cantina. Deke apparently heard it too, and staggered to a rolling stop in front of Reese Donovan's table.
After a drunken pause, Deke laughed and said, "Aw, now, that's a real shame."
Stunned by the sudden stop, Grace ceased her flailing and looked under her captor's arm to see an upside-down view of Donovan, rising with slow menace from his chair; his shattered new bottle of whiskey leaking across the table, his shirtfront soaked with liquor. Grace's eyes widened at the furious expression on his face as he spoke.
"Buy me another, Sanders."
In the eerie silence that followed Donovan's demand came the sound of chair legs scraping against the wood-planked floor as men vacated their seats and hurried to the far edges of the room. Shelby, apparently frozen by indecision, only backed halfway to the wall, in halfhearted support of his friend.
Her tormenter looked around accusingly at the men who'd abandoned the fun like scattering cockroaches, then he looked back with whiskey-induced courage at Donovan. "I don't buy drinks for micks."
The room had gone deadly quiet; quiet enough to hear the whiskey drip from Donovan's table in a steady tattoo against the floor. Quiet enough that Grace was sure the frightened thud of her heart could be heard by all in the room as it pounded against Sanders's shoulder and sent blood rushing straight to her head. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she waited for the inevitable explosion of male outrage she was certain would follow.
Donovan stepped deliberately away from the table. "What'd you call me?"
With a bigot's confident swagger, Deke glanced around the room at his friends. "You heard me— mick."
Even upside down, Grace thought, Donovan looked appallingly sober. Maria, who'd been standing near Donovan's elbow, edged away.
His words were deceptively quiet. "Put her down."
"The hell you say."
A muscle jerked in the ex-Ranger's
No, Lorna Lee wouldn't scream or cry, she decided. She'd simply brush past them with her head up and leave those two drunken baboons gaping after her. She could do that... couldn't she?
Grace snapped her fan open with a meaningful pop and started to her left. Shelby intercepted her, blocking her way, grinning down at her with foul breath. Backing up, she took an evasive step to her right. Deke, however, was faster and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him as if she weighed nothing. Her fan flew out of her hand and skittered across the bar. This time, she couldn't help the short yelp of fear that escaped her as he drew her up against his sweaty body.
"Let go of me!"
"C'mon, girly-girl. I ain't had nothin' sweet as you fer months. Ain't no use bein' coy. You come in here askin' for it."
She gasped. "I certainly did n—"
"I know you want me; I kin see it in them pretty blue eyes of yours."
Jerking her arm, she tried to free herself, but he was much too strong. He turned her around so her back was against him and his forearm was against her throat. One hand slid provocatively down in the direction of her breast. Desperate, she shoved her boot heel hard against his shin.
Deke yelped and hopped on one foot, letting loose with a string of expletives. This elicited a howl of laughter from the disreputable lot of men surrounding them, which only made him madder. " Damnation! Hold still, you little hellcat!" he roared.
Grace opened her mouth to scream for help, but her cry was cut off as Deke hauled her back to him and swung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She went numb with fear as the air whooshed from her lungs. She kicked wildly and pounded on his back with her fists. He seemed not to feel any of it. The crowd roared with laughter as he spun drunkenly, trying to regain his balance.
As the room whirled by, Grace felt her heel connect with something hard, followed by the sound of breaking glass and the collective gasp of the crowded cantina. Deke apparently heard it too, and staggered to a rolling stop in front of Reese Donovan's table.
After a drunken pause, Deke laughed and said, "Aw, now, that's a real shame."
Stunned by the sudden stop, Grace ceased her flailing and looked under her captor's arm to see an upside-down view of Donovan, rising with slow menace from his chair; his shattered new bottle of whiskey leaking across the table, his shirtfront soaked with liquor. Grace's eyes widened at the furious expression on his face as he spoke.
"Buy me another, Sanders."
In the eerie silence that followed Donovan's demand came the sound of chair legs scraping against the wood-planked floor as men vacated their seats and hurried to the far edges of the room. Shelby, apparently frozen by indecision, only backed halfway to the wall, in halfhearted support of his friend.
Her tormenter looked around accusingly at the men who'd abandoned the fun like scattering cockroaches, then he looked back with whiskey-induced courage at Donovan. "I don't buy drinks for micks."
The room had gone deadly quiet; quiet enough to hear the whiskey drip from Donovan's table in a steady tattoo against the floor. Quiet enough that Grace was sure the frightened thud of her heart could be heard by all in the room as it pounded against Sanders's shoulder and sent blood rushing straight to her head. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she waited for the inevitable explosion of male outrage she was certain would follow.
Donovan stepped deliberately away from the table. "What'd you call me?"
With a bigot's confident swagger, Deke glanced around the room at his friends. "You heard me— mick."
Even upside down, Grace thought, Donovan looked appallingly sober. Maria, who'd been standing near Donovan's elbow, edged away.
His words were deceptively quiet. "Put her down."
"The hell you say."
A muscle jerked in the ex-Ranger's
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