The Outlaw's Redemption. Renee Ryan

feel heavy, stifling. Even Mattie seemed to be rendered momentarily speechless, her gaze darting between Annabeth and Hunter.

      More seconds ticked by. And still, Annabeth couldn’t stop looking into Hunter’s mesmerizing eyes. The impact of all that concentration directed solely on her was like a physical blow. And not entirely unpleasant.

      For a brief moment, he looked as agonized as she felt. She wanted to soothe his anguish, to offer him comfort, to—

      What was wrong with her?

      Hunter was an unsafe man, one who knew her secret.

      He could ruin everything she’d built in the past year.

      “It’s been a while since we last met,” he said, breaking the silence with his deep, velvety voice.

      She nodded. “At least eight years.”

      Mattie sprang back to attention, snapping her head from one to the other. “You two have met before?”

      “Yes, Mattie.” A slow smile spread across Hunter’s mouth, making him far too appealing. “I am acquainted with your daughter.”

      “But...” Mattie released a hiss, the sound equal parts hostility and warning. “That’s impossible.”

      Annabeth understood her mother’s shock. Through the years, Mattie had shielded her from men like Hunter.

      “How...how did you two meet?” Mattie didn’t bother hiding her horror at such a prospect, or her outrage. “Where? When? I demand to know every detail.”

      A sigh leaked out of Annabeth. “Does it matter now?”

      “Yes.” That one word, spoken through clenched teeth, said so much. “It matters a great deal, Annabeth.”

      She supposed so, at least from Mattie’s perspective. Her mother had worked very hard to protect Annabeth, sending her far away to school where she could learn the precepts of Christian charity and proper behavior. No drinking allowed. No gambling. And definitely no friendly acquaintances with gunslingers recently released from prison.

      Bad character corrupts good morals.

      A noble ideal, to be sure, straight from the Bible.

      But life at Miss Lindsey’s had proved just as hazardous as the one Annabeth would have had in Denver, the people just as unforgiving once the truth had come out about her mother. She’d been guilty by association. Her dream of respectability gone, gone, gone. Her reputation not quite in tatters, but close enough to warrant leaving Boston for good.

      “Annabeth.” Mattie crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “I am waiting for an answer. Where did you meet this man?”

      Despite the tension of the moment, Annabeth had to fight back a smile. Now he was this man.

      Oh, the irony. Hunter Mitchell wouldn’t even be in this room if Mattie hadn’t contacted him.

      Annabeth cast a quick glance in his direction. The expression in his eyes was kind now, encouraging, reminding her of the first time they’d met. She’d been more than a little dazzled by the attractive, broad-shouldered rancher her sister had married so impetuously. He’d been twenty-one at the time, more man than boy, full of charm and humor and determined to save Maria from herself.

      Much had changed since then. Everything had changed.

      “Annabeth. Stop staring at the man this very instant, and answer my question.”

      She sighed again. “We’ve met twice before tonight. The first time, a few days after he married Maria.” He’d taken them shopping and had been so patient, so generous, even to her. “We met again at Maria’s funeral.”

      “Her funeral?” Mattie’s stunned expression precipitated her sinking into a nearby chair. “I forbade you to go.”

      Annabeth remembered the day well. She’d been fifteen at the time, home from school on holiday, and saddened over her sister’s death, a sister she’d hardly known, who’d been born the daughter of Mattie’s bitter rival, Emma Bradley. Her mother had been adamant Annabeth stay away from the funeral.

      She’d gone, anyway.

      “Maria deserved to have family present.”

      She’d been glad she’d gone, too. Only one other person had attended the funeral besides Annabeth. Maria’s estranged husband, Hunter.

      “Family?” Mattie spat out the word in derision. “She was that horrible woman’s daughter.”

      “She was my sister.”

      “Your half sister. She had no relation to me.”

      “Regardless, Maria was always good to me,” Annabeth defended. “She was my blood kin. I loved her and she loved me.” Turning to look at Hunter, she added, “She loved you, too.”

      He showed no reaction to the declaration, other than a careful narrowing of his eyes. “Did you know about the child when we met at the funeral?”

      The question brought them back to the real issue at hand. Hunter might have been kind to her, once, long ago, when they were both much younger. But she knew what sort of man he’d become since then. Lawless, tough, a member of a ruthless gang.

      Tread carefully, Annabeth.

      “No, I didn’t know about Sarah at the time,” she answered truthfully. “Maria kept her existence a secret from me, too.”

      “I find that hard to believe.”

      So had Annabeth. She’d been terribly hurt when she’d discovered the truth. But that hadn’t stopped her from building a life with Sarah once she’d discovered her niece’s existence. A safe, respectable existence now threatened by this man’s inopportune arrival.

      How had matters gotten so quickly out of hand?

      “Who knows what was in Maria’s head at the time of her death.” Annabeth closed her eyes against the image of the last time she’d seen her sister alive. Her beauty gone, the sunken cheeks and eyes, the despair. “She was sick, Hunter, and delirious most of the time in her final days.”

      “Yet she was lucid enough to send the child to Charity House instead of telling me about her.” Hunter’s voice cut through the room like a dagger. “I wonder why.”

      Didn’t he know? “She was protecting Sarah, from you.”

      “From me.” He spoke softly, his amber eyes lit with raw emotion.

      “By the time she became ill you weren’t exactly a model of good behavior.”

      “True.”

      Annabeth sighed at the regret in his voice, and the remorse. Such remorse. Had he changed?

      Dare she hope?

      “I understand why Maria didn’t tell me about the child, but why didn’t she tell you?”

      Annabeth lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps she was protecting Sarah from me, too.”

      “You? No.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

      “What could I have done for her at the time? I was a child myself, spoiled and selfish and—”

      “I don’t remember you that way.”

      He didn’t? How did he remember her? Had he thought of her through the years like she’d thought of him? Did he...

      No. Oh, no. She could not let down her guard like this. “I was certainly too young to raise a child by myself.”

      “Perhaps.” He fell silent then.

      So did Annabeth.

      Mattie eyed them both, gave a little sigh, then entered the conversational void with gusto. “Hunter, you must know it’s not too late to change the situation. You can retrieve your daughter