Flesh And Blood. Caroline Burnes

      Rain mixed with tears as I fled through the forest

      Half-blinded, I failed to see the horse and rider that stepped out of the trees and directly into my path. When I finally registered man and beast, my shrill cry of fear unsettled the horse.

      I had one glimpse of a superb rider controlling the magnificent animal before I had to throw myself off the trail and out of the horse’s path. In that one brief glance I saw a man with his face completely hidden by a hat.

      I noticed no more before I landed facedown in a leafy azalea. Before I could move from the clutches of the shrub, I felt the cold bite of steel against the back of my neck.

      A masculine voice behind me gave me a blood-chilling warning.

      “Make another move and you’ll die.”

      On a trip to Vicksburg, Mississippi, with writer/history buff Pat Sellers, Caroline Burnes toured several “haunted” plantations and the historic battlefields. That trip, combined with the incredible letter written by a Union soldier to his wife and read during the PBS series on the Civil War, sparked the idea for Flesh and Blood. Caroline believes that the past is alive, and never far behind us.

      Flesh and Blood

      Caroline Burnes

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my parents, Roy and Hilda Haines,

      and Marjorie Manvel. They live in my heart.

      Contents

       Prologue

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Epilogue

      Prologue

      The brass bell jangled merrily as Frank Devlin pushed open the heavy glass door at Mason’s Liquor Store and gave a good-natured grin to the store owner, short and plump Robert Mason, who stood behind the counter. Frank’s long strides took him unerringly to the cooler at the rear of the store, where he searched through the cold bottles of champagne and wines, until he found the one bottle he sought and pulled it out.

      “Thanks for chilling this for me, Robert. This is Emma’s absolute favorite.”

      “Special occasion, eh?” Robert already knew. For the past five years on this date he’d gone through the same routine with Frank. The special champagne, the ritual of having it chilled and ready so that when Frank got home he could pop the cork without delay. The Devlins were two of his favorite customers. They were so much in love, even after five years of marriage.

      “Emma claims that you call me up and remind me to do this,” Frank said. He stopped near the selection of red wines. “She says you’re a handsome rascal. She’s also implied that I grew my mustache because she thinks yours is sexy.”

      “If Emma Devlin was my wife, I’d give her champagne for breakfast everyday,” Robert answered. “She’s a knockout, and you’re a lucky man.”

      “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”

      The brass bell over the door jangled again. Frank selected a bottle of wine for the special dinner he knew his wife was cooking and turned back toward the cash register with a grin that quickly faded from his face. The wine bottle he held aloft was lowered to his side.

      “Hit the floor, mister.” The young man in a black leather jacket pointed a blue-black pistol directly at Frank Devlin’s heart.

      “Okay.” Frank lowered his lanky frame to the liquor store floor. He had seen the look of terror on Robert’s face. It was echoed on those of the two other customers caught innocently in what was surely an armed robbery. There were two robbers, both with guns and both wearing dark ski masks pulled over their faces. The second gunman was smaller, in a blue windbreaker.

      “Take the money. Just don’t hurt anyone,” Robert Mason said from his prone position. “Take anything you want. Then get out. We don’t want any trouble here.”

      “Shut up!” The leather-jacketed robber kicked Robert in the face as he lay on the floor. “When I need your permission, I’ll ask for it.”

      The second robber, busy at the cash drawer, laughed. “That’s right, you tell ‘em, Diamond. We don’t need nobody’s permission!”

      Frank could feel the grit of the floor against his cheek. He had no weapon. There was nothing he could do except wait for the robbers to take the money and leave. They were both young, and they both sounded unstable. Hopped up on some type of drugs more than likely. The best thing to do was to remain calm. If no one provoked them, they would probably take the money and some liquor and leave. Several stores in the downtown Jackson area had been hit by armed robbers lately. The Mississippi capital had never been a hotbed of crime, but the economic downturn and the high unemployment rate were taking a toll.

      The young woman several feet away had begun to whimper in fear. Frank wanted to warn her to stay quiet. These robbers wouldn’t need much to push them to another act of cruelty. They would certainly feed off the young woman’s fear.

      “Something wrong, bitch?” The robber called Diamond walked up to the woman’s side. He nudged her in the ribs with the toe of his shoe. “You got a complaint?”

      “No,” she managed to gasp. “No problem.”

      “That’s good. ’Cause if you had a problem,