Sam's Creed. Sarah McCarty

was a bossy little thing. “I’ll do my best.”

      “It would be best if you succeeded.”

      Very bossy.

      Things were too quiet out there. Sam inched along the wall, being careful his gun belt didn’t scrape. A rhythmic jingle of spurs approached. He shook his head at the foolhardiness of trying to sneak while wearing spurs. He leaned back and waited. The thin barrel of a rifle extended past the corner. Sam didn’t move, holding his palm out flat behind him to warn Isabella not to make a sound. Two heartbeats passed. The gun barrel jerked. Sam dropped to his knee. Fire burned up his thigh. The man leapt around the corner. Sam fired. The bullet hit the outlaw in the heart, stopping him midleap. He dropped, a stunned expression on his face.

      Cocking the hammer again, Sam wiped the sweat from his brow with his shoulder and waited. There was no sound.

      He spared a quick glance at Bella. Her face was white and her eyes were big with terror, but she was kneeling beside Kell, holding his jaws shut. Sam added quickthinking to bossy.

      Holding his finger to his lip, he indicated she should continue to be silent. She nodded back. Sam inched closer to the corner of the building, blood dripping down his leg in a warm flow. As soon as he took care of the last bandit, he’d have to see just how bad it was. At least the bullet had missed the bone.

      “Your friends are dead,” he called out.

      No answer.

      “I’m willing to let you live, for a price.” Something crashed to the ground. From the splintering aftermath it sounded like a crate. “You promise to take a message to Tejala, and I won’t plug your sorry ass.”

      Still no response.

      “I’m going to count to three. If I get to three I’m going to take that for a no.”

      Another crash. He stepped around the corner. A barrel tumbled off the stack against the livery. Beside it listed a broken crate. A quick scan revealed no guns poking out of windows, no new additions to the battle cluttered the streets. Apparently the citizens of the town were no more married to Juan and his companions than he was.

      “One.”

      He got to the edge of the barrels, his leg aching like a son of a bitch. Ahead of him he could see the bandit scramble backwards across the ground, one arm held awkwardly at his side. Sam advanced, guns cocked, eyes watchful as the man tripped and fell back to his elbows. A hoarse shout punctuated his fall onto his injured arm. He pushed with his feet but there was nowhere for him to go. Behind him was the building and in front of him was Sam. The wall would be easier to get through.

      “Two.”

      The bandit finally realized he was trapped. He threw up his hand. “¿Qué quieres?”

      Sam didn’t answer. He let the man stew in his own sweat while he bore down on him. A trickle of blood rolled down his cheek and more blood seeped down his leg.

      He kicked the gun away from the bandit’s useless arm. “What does Tejala want with this woman?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “That wasn’t what I asked you.” Sam fired a bullet into his other shoulder.

      He had to wait until the man’s shouts dropped to a panicked gurgle before he could repeat his question.

      “To marry her! She is supposed to be his bride!”

      So that part of her story was true.

      “If she’s supposed to be his bride why isn’t she married to him?”

      “Because I have refused the marriage contract.”

      Sam should have known Isabella wouldn’t stay put. She stood beside him, staring down at the man, no expression on her face. “I don’t remember inviting you to this parley.”

      Kell worked his way between them, his yellow eyes locked on the bandit. Bella folded her arms across her chest. “I do not remember asking you to capture me.”

      He cocked the other hammer of the gun. “And yet we’re both here.”

      “And here is where?”

      It was the bandit that answered with a sneer. “Here is where you will die.”

      Sam was tempted to end it right there. Instead, he placed his foot on the bandit’s injured shoulder and pressed. “Care to share what makes here so damn dangerous?”

      It took very little for the bandit to spill what he knew. Pretty much one hard push and he was telling all. “Tejala owns this town. Owns this territory. No one will help you for fear of his retribution.”

      “I never asked for help.”

      The bandit leaned to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood. “You will need it.” He jerked his chin toward the dead. “You killed his cousin. He will not rest until he kills you.”

      “Which one’s his cousin?”

      Sam looked at Isabella. She shrugged. The bandit was more accommodating. “The one with the moustache.”

      “The stupid son of a bitch who came between me and my dinner?”

      The man spat again. “In a few days, we will see who is so stupid.”

      “If you kill him, no one will know who did this,” Isabella interjected helpfully.

      Kell growled as if he approved the plan.

      “True.” Sam removed his foot from the bandit’s shoulder as he pretended to consider the notion. “Of course, the thirty or so townsfolk peeking at us from behind the window curtains might be a problem.”

      “How many bullets are in your gun?”

      Damn if she didn’t have a sense of humor. Swallowing back a chuckle, he shook his head. “Not that many.”

      The bandit grimaced, showing rotted teeth stained red with blood. “There is no hope for you, ranger.”

      Suppressing an urge to kick those ugly teeth down his throat, Sam kept his voice even. “I wouldn’t go that far. As long as I have the woman, I have a bargaining chip.”

      Isabella gasped. A sly glint came into the bandit’s gaze. “Tejala would pay much for her.” He hitched his weight up higher against the wall. “I could bring you to him. We could share the profits.”

      “I don’t share.”

      “You will need me to find him.”

      Sam caught Isabella’s hand, keeping her from getting any further out from his side. “Or I could just plant my feet somewhere and give a shout as to what I’ve got.”

      He ignored Isabella’s “Bastard.”

      “What do you think of that?”

      The bandit spat again. He wiped his chin on his shoulder. “I think that you are a dead man.”

      Sam straightened. “I think you’re right. Which means I’ve got nothing to lose.”

      Curtains were fluttering like crazy down the street. The town’s residents were getting nervous. Nervous people made him anxious. Isabella tugged on his hand. He looked down.

      “If you let me go,” she said, in a voice that shook, “No one will chase you.”

      “Now where would the fun be in that?”

      “You don’t want me.”

      She had to be shitting him. The woman was a curvy little keg of dynamite that had a man thinking about making her explode with his first look. “Darling, there isn’t a man alive that wouldn’t want you.”

      He didn’t like the assessing look in her eyes as she cocked her head to the side and placed her hands on her hips. “You also?”