The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,68
know our findings.” She looked down her pert nose and Quin silently applauded her ability to portray the power-wielding heiress from Boston. He wondered if she was mimicking her father—and decided it was likely. Quin had picked up several mannerisms from his father over the years and he used them when necessary.
Muttering under his breath, Hobbs stepped around the corner to unlock the cell and return the six-shooter. He moved aside to let Quin pass. “If anyone else turns up dead around here, don’t expect me to look the other way,” he warned. “The Cahills and McKnights are not above the law.”
“Truth and justice will prevail, Marshal,” Boston retorted, refusing to back down an inch. “A murderer is running loose. I trust you’ll do all within your power to find him. Or rather the three of them.” She stared pointedly at the pot on the stove. “You don’t have time to lounge around your office, drinking coffee and propping your feet on your desk.”
Hobbs glared at her, then stalked outside to confront the mob before they reached the boardwalk.
“I don’t think Hobbs likes me much,” Boston commented, then smiled wickedly. “I wonder why?”
“Can’t imagine. But don’t take it too hard. He doesn’t like me, either.” Quin dropped a kiss to her dewy lips. “Thanks for coming to my defense. That lumpy cot and drafty cell were getting old real quick.”
“I missed having you in bed last night,” she whispered.
Desire pummeled him below the belt buckle in the time it took to blink. Funny how quickly one word or thought aroused him these days. No other woman had that ability. But then, there was only one Boston in the world.
And that was probably a good thing.
When Quin opened the door, all eyes darted past Hobbs to zero in on him and Boston. Quin maintained a deadpan expression long after Hobbs said, “Break it up, men. The real murderer is on the loose. If anybody can identify the dead man at the undertaker’s I want to know immediately.”
When Quin veered toward Preston, Boston tugged on his arm. “Don’t kill that arrogant bastard in front of the mob. I refuse to attend your necktie party today since I’m not dressed properly for the occasion.”
“Van Slyck deserves to have his head bashed in for what he said about my sister,” Quin grumbled resentfully.
“I agree, but people are watching every move you make. Don’t provide fodder for gossip.” She squeezed his hand, then veered away. “I’ll catch up with you later. I’m going to ask Rosa to fetch Lucas and Dog to investigate.”
When she strode off, Quin ambled toward Preston, who smiled tauntingly. “Oh, dear, you aren’t planning to kill me, too, are you, Cahill?”
“For what? Being a lecherous ass?” Quin replied, flashing an identical smile. “I didn’t think to ask the other night, Van Slyck. What were you doing in Deadwood, crawling to Leanna on your knees, begging her to give you another chance? She rejected you again, didn’t she? As I recall, it didn’t take her long the first time you came sniffing around to realize how worthless you are.”
To Quin’s amusement, Preston’s face turned purple with rage. The color looked good on him.
“Go to hell, Cahill,” he sneered viciously.
“Can’t. It’s your future address, Van Slyck. And why’d you kill that man on my property?”
“I didn’t. If I wanted to kill someone I’d start with you,” he snarled in a hateful tone.
Quin couldn’t prove Preston had anything to do with the murder. But for certain, Preston was spiteful, vindictive, and he delighted in rubbing Quin’s face in scandal every chance he got. Preston was a cheapjack, after all.
Adrianna was thrilled that Rosa offered Lucas and Dog’s services to scout the site of the shooting. She was also greatly relieved that Quin had resisted pounding Preston flat and mailing him to the end of the earth.
The minute they returned to 4C, she ordered Quin to bed and, surprisingly, he didn’t object. He teased her by saying, “I saw the way you worked over Hobbs so I don’t dare argue with you.”
Adrianna had to admit that she felt physically and emotionally wrung out herself. The past week of party planning, destructive fires, an unsolved murder and Quin’s stint in jail had worn her out.
Leaving Butler in charge of whatever problems arose, Adrianna collapsed in Quin’s former bedroom. Three hours later, she awoke to rake her tangled hair from her face. She sat up on the edge of the bed to work the tension from her