The Kid in Black
Nell Grant lost everything and watched her life burn to the ground. A fiery-hot need for revenge keeps her moving during the day. But at night, dreams of a passionate stranger fill her empty heart.
Hunter's associate, Marshal Samuel Kline, hoped to spend a quiet Christmas reunion with his sister in New Orleans, but an urgent assignment sends him to Beaumont, Texas. In Beaumont, the local sheriff warns of another criminal, a kid who wears all black and loiters at the Silver Star Saloon.
Passions collide as Nell and Sam struggle to balance the scales between her thirst for vengeance and his sense of duty.
Black fringed eyes opened wide and looked up into his. “Why did you shoot me?” Her voice was choked and held a note of betrayal.
“I didn't shoot you—the bartender did. Why did you run?” Sam's voice was soft. He felt twisted inside. Every bit of logic told him this woman was off limits, yet his attraction to her, and his sympathy for her clouded his reasoning.
“I… I was frightened.”
Sam stepped closer. He could see the gooseflesh on her shoulders. He wanted to run his hands up her arms, warm her with his body. He took a short breath. “Of me? You don't need to be afraid of me.”
Her expressive eyes rose to his, infused with hope, and she turned her shoulder slightly toward him. “I think the bleeding has stopped, but I can't see it.”
“Let me look.”
She turned, and the bloody washcloth fell to the floor. The back of her camisole was soaked red.
When Sam pulled aside the camisole-strap, he could see the wound just above the blood-soaked binding around her chest.
She was so small that his heart clenched. “How old are you? What's your name?”
“I'm twenty-two. My name—” She began to tremble, her mouth moved, but no sound escaped.
Sam eased her over to the edge of the bed and helped her sit. “You need a doctor.”
“No…no doctor.” Panic edged her voice as she turned to stare up at him. “I have bandages and ointment in my bag.” Her eyes begged him. “The bleeding has stopped. Can't you help me? Please?”
Where had his good sense gone? Sam lit the lamp by the bedside and lifted her saddlebags to the bed. He opened one side and looked through the contents with confusion. Bandages and bullets filled the bag. “You shoot a lot?”
“Yes. As much as I can.”