heavily. His legendary reputation, which had somehow escalated from fact to fiction, was a standing invitation to every would-be shootist who wanted to advertise his skills with a six-shooter. Lone Wolf found it tiresome that half the folks he knew wanted to gun him down to save their worthless hides from a jail sentence, or to establish names for themselves as gunmen.
The other half treated him like a social outcast. They went out of their way to avoid contact with him because he was a half-breed, and a bounty hunter to boot. But he got paid handsomely to rid the world of ruthless murderers and thieves that so-called decent folks were afraid or unwilling to risk their charmed lives to remove from society.
Call him a hopeless cynic, but he swore the criminals he tracked down weren’t much better than the snooty, two-faced folks he had encountered in proper society. The socialites were just more discreet about getting what they wanted. They were, however, more than obvious about their distaste for his mixed breeding and disreputable profession.
Which was why he camped outside of town instead of renting a room at one of the local hotels. He preferred to avoid encounters with the snooty folks in Dodge City as much as possible.
The truth was that Lone Wolf had the same use and respect for those uppity hypocrites as they had for him. Which was none whatsoever.
His thoughts trailed off as the rider plowed through the darkness, headed straight for the campfire. Lone Wolf hunkered down, poised to spring into action when the kid came within striking distance. He damn well intended to scare the bejesus out of him once and for all.
Lone Wolf’s abrupt whistle startled the winded horse. When the mount sidestepped, he launched himself at the kid like a pouncing panther. Before the kid realized what was happening Lone Wolf jerked him roughly from the saddle. He took amused satisfaction in hearing the surprised squawk that erupted from the kid’s lips when he cartwheeled across the ground.
Before the kid could catch his breath, Lone Wolf plunked down on top of his sprawled body. He laid a knife to the kid’s throat and pressed his hand to his heaving chest to hold him securely in place.
“What the hell…?” Lone Wolf snatched back his right hand when he unexpectedly made contact with the feminine breasts that were concealed beneath the oversize jacket.
He was still gaping at his captive in disbelief when the owner of those full breasts walloped him upside the head with both hands at once.
“Get off me!” she shrieked in outrage.
Lone Wolf sank back on his haunches—still sitting astride the woman who had left both his jaws stinging.
“Get off me now!” she yelled while her arms swept upward again to slap him silly.
He caught her wrists in a vise grip. “I’ll get off when you calm down,” he snapped gruffly.
Teeth clenched, she reared up her head. “I’ll calm down after you get off me!”
Lone Wolf was sorry to say that he became momentarily distracted when her oversize hat tumbled sideways and a riot of frothy red-gold curls cascaded around her shoulders. The shiny tendrils caught flame in the campfire light and her livid green eyes fixated murderously on him.
Breathtaking did not accurately describe the woman’s facial features. Her spiky lashes, pert nose, full lips and elegant cheekbones were an intriguing study of light and shadows. Lone Wolf simply gaped at her for what seemed like several minutes, wondering how he could have mistaken this lovely female for the drunken brat that had invited a gunfight an hour earlier. But now that he could see her for who and what she was, it was difficult not to respond to the sight and feel of her lush body so close to his.
It took considerable willpower to rein in his wandering thoughts and pay attention to business. He told himself that while this female was disguised in a man’s hat, jacket and breeches, he should have been able to tell the difference, even in the darkness. But he supposed that since she rode as expertly as a man she had thrown him off track, especially since he had been expecting someone else to show up.
Lone Wolf shifted sideways to sit down cross-legged beside his unexpected guest, then he squinted disapprovingly at the fetching female. “Next time you decide to come charging into my camp like a bat out of hell, don’t. In my business, I make it a policy to act first and ask questions later—if I get around to it.” He glared at her. “Now what the devil are you doing out here alone? Any woman with a brain in her head should know better than to do what you just did. I guess we know what that makes you, don’t we?”
“Thank you so much for the insult,” Julia Preston snapped as she levered herself into a sitting position to dust off her jacket. “I never would have thought that your type would turn out to be so preachy.”
She bit her lip, annoyed with herself for sniping at the hard-edged man when she desperately needed his help. But she had been swinging wildly on an emotional pendulum for almost two hours. She was worried sick about her injured brother and she was frantic to return to the ranch to check on him. First, however, she had to persuade this tough-as-nails bounty hunter to come with her.
Snarling at Lone Wolf was not going to gain his cooperation.
Having the wind knocked clean out of her, and having a man’s hands planted on her chest had done nothing for her deteriorating disposition and her temper. It was difficult to be diplomatic and charming when her world had been turned upside down—again—and she felt the overwhelming need to lash out to vent her grief, anger and frustration.
None of her problems were Vince Lone Wolf’s fault. She knew that, but she was in such turmoil that she was about to explode. He, unfortunately, was in the direct line of fire.
“I need your help, and damn it, I will have it!” she all but shouted at him. “I need you to come home with me.”
He cocked his head and stared curiously at her. Julia dragged in a restorative breath and tried to get herself under control. It was impossible.
“I need—” Her voice broke. The memory of her brother being blown out of the saddle, and dropping to the ground like a rock, descended on her like a tormenting nightmare.
Every ounce of inner strength and adrenaline that had sustained her while she raced off to summon the doctor, and then locate Lone Wolf—as Adam had demanded in a pained whisper—gushed out like a deflated balloon. Her emotions had been running so high and swift that she burst into humiliating tears. She dropped her head in her hands and let the pent-up frustration bleed out of her.
“I—I’m s-sorry,” she blubbered helplessly.
She heard rather than saw the bounty hunter rise to his feet and walk away. Hard-hearted bastard, she thought. He probably didn’t care if she cried herself dry, as long as she didn’t do it in front of him.
Julia was taken by complete surprise when she felt Lone Wolf’s lean fingers curl around her hands to pry them away from her face. He surprised her a second time when he pressed a tin cup to her lips.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”
Maybe he had a heart, after all, she allowed as she clamped her shaking hands around the cup, then took a gulp.
She realized too late that she had ingested a huge swallow of whiskey, not water. Fire burned her throat and she gasped to draw breath. While she sputtered and wheezed he whacked her between the shoulder blades until she could
