Blaze of Glory (4 page)

“Uncle William!” Molly stood, never taking her gaze off the man. When she sensed her uncle’s presence, she spoke, “This man wants to go before the judge. He shot Jonathan. Unloaded a clip into him. He’s also wanted in connection with scores of other murders. I’ve been chasing him and his gang for months. Apparently, they’ve been hunting me too. Can I shoot him now?”

The man gulped. “Y-your u-uncle’s the j-judge?”

“Stutter much, asshole?” She nodded as a sick smile moved over her face.

The man paled considerably. “I demand a lawyer.”

Eli cleared his throat. “Judge Wheeler, I’d be happy to represent this man. He did shoot my kin. I’m
sure
I can be fair.”

Molly rounded on him. A puff of dust rose around her and she coughed as she aimed her weapon at Eli’s chest. “He shot Jonathan. He doesn’t deserve you representing him.” She paused, thinking about what that meant. “When the hell did you become a lawyer?”

He smiled, giving her the famous MacSweeny ‘get me out of anything’ one. “When did you become a sexy gun-toting, foul-mouthed hellcat, Special Marshal?”

Molly didn’t answer him. He’d made his point. They’d both changed. She cocked her gun. “Eli, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. Jonathan’s death won’t go unpunished. I’ll not chance this rounder getting off. He’ll not kill again.”

“No, he won’t.” Eli grinned, looking all too cocky.

“Lil’ princess, don’t shoot Eli. Allow him to do his job,” her uncle said, calming her a tiny bit. “You may remember him as a hair-pulling brat with too much time on his hands but he’s matured into a fine lawyer and man.”

She shrugged. “Fine, I won’t shoot Eli, but I’m still killing the outlaw regardless of the verdict.”

“You can’t do that,” the outlaw bellowed, shock evident on his face.

Cole snickered, looking as though he was having way too much fun messing around with the outlaw. “Watch her. She tends to do whatever the hell she wants to do.”

Under different circumstances, Molly would have let Cole toy with the man. This was different. This was the man who had caused Jonathan harm. The minute she found the man who actually fired the weapon, she’d kill him without alerting the others. There would be no trial for him either.

Eli chuckled. “Judge, my client is guilty. I recommend execution at first light.”

Stunned, Molly just stared at Eli as he winked at her. Her uncle laughed. “Funny, I was leaning towards that on my own, son.”

“Great, let’s eat. I’m starvin’ and you know your wife put together a heck of a spread in there on account of Molly’s return.” Eli did a rather dramatic pat of his stomach while he wagged his brows. It was adorable in ways only a MacSweeny could pull off.

“I’m with him,” Parker said. “Let’s eat.”

Molly watched as Parker pushed up from the ground, dusted himself off and strolled leisurely to his brother’s side. “I bet that hurt like hell, Jon. Regretting your decision to charge in and save the day?”

Jonathan grunted. “Yeah, it hurt but the thought of Molly being injured hurt a hell of a lot worse, brother. I wouldn’t change a thing.” He put his hand up. “Less talk. More help.”

Parker snickered. “Nah, I think you should lie there. Molly might kiss you again if she thinks you’re gonna die.”

“Jon, you were…are…shot, a lot,” she gulped, “in the chest no less. I-I saw it…Jon?”

Grinning at her, he pulled his black T-shirt up. She watched as the bullets seemed to work themselves out of his body and fall to the ground with the tiniest of plunking sounds. A second later, the wounds healed over, leaving nothing but sheer perfection in its place.

He’s a shifter.

The area around Molly seemed to spin fast. She blinked twice and knew then what was happening—she was about to faint.

I do not faint.

Molly woke to the smell of bacon frying and fresh-baked biscuits. Her stomach growled, signaling just how hungry she was. The scent of sandalwood and pine entered into the mix, confusing her. She turned slightly, realizing that she was in a bed rather than on a blanket beneath the stars. She was also wearing a man’s long-sleeved white shirt and her black thong. Her leather pants, shirt and bra were missing. The sheer fabric left her nipples showing.

The light cotton material was a sharp contrast to her normal leather and Molly hated to admit just how good it felt against her skin. Breathable. Airy. Perfect. She also didn’t want to acknowledge how fantastic it smelled—sandalwood and pine—the scent had always reminded her of Jonathan.

Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed, not really wanting to get up but knowing she had to. Her muscles ached, not with pain so much as what came from deep sleep. That wasn’t something she was used to. “Cole, where are my clothes?”

No answer.

Several over-stuffed pale blue pillows caught her attention. As Molly touched one, she shook her head. They were identical to the dream pillows she’d made with her aunt when she was younger. She’d had every intention of giving them to Jonathan for a birthday present but had chickened out in the end, making her aunt swear not to tell him.

Molly could still remember how much she’d wanted to take away Jonathan’s bad dreams. It was by accident she’d found out Jonathan was plagued by nightmares. One lazy summer day, he’d dozed off under the shade of the maple tree by the river. Within minutes he was screaming out, desperately trying to hold onto someone or something. Seeing him like that, vulnerable, left a lasting impression on her. She’d mentioned what had happened to her Uncle William, who in turn had her aunt help her with the dream pillows.

They were said to help ward off bad dreams. Molly snickered, thinking about how foolish and gullible she’d been at that age. At the time, she’d decided if one pillow was supposed to help then four would surely eliminate the nightmares completely.

“Such a fool.”

Sitting up, Molly stared around the room. The king-sized four-post bed she lay in sat in the center of the large, soft yellow room. Mahogany dressers flanked the walls near the bedroom door. Nothing on them betrayed who their owner was.

This was not her father’s home. Yes, it had an air of wealth to it but it had something her childhood home had lacked—heart. The bed looked as though it had been hand-carved. While that wasn’t something her childhood lacked, it was something that was individual to the piece and whoever had carved this cared.

She ran her hand out and over the edge of the bed and stopped when she spotted a long, white muslin dress with the tiniest of flowers embroidered down the length of it. Molly reached for it but hesitated. Wherever she was, it belonged to someone else. It didn’t matter how pretty it was, with its bouquet pattern on the bodice. It wasn’t hers.

Why do you even want to wear some silly dress anyway?

Molly knew the answer to her own question—because it was beautiful. The matching white slippers with long silk ribbon ties that lay at the foot of the bed only served to make it all the more appealing. As much as Molly prided herself on her ability to run around in a male-dominated territory, she still liked pretty things.

Looking around, she was positive she wasn’t in her uncle’s home either. Molly stood and began searching for a personal Frontier Stall panel, anything that would give her access to the territory’s general computer database. Often homes had individual ones linked to mainframes. She found nothing. It was then she noticed the oil lamps sitting on a set of bedside tables that were absolutely beautiful.

“Great, I’m in the house time forgot.”

Molly had been to plenty of other territories over the past ten years. Each was vastly different—a world all unto itself. She’d learned in history courses it didn’t used to be quite as bad, long ago. Once, there had been countries, nations. That was before The Great Sickness had come and wiped out a large chunk of the population, leaving the survivors devastated and scarce in numbers.

Major environmental changes had occurred around the same time. Tidal waves took out countries, tornados wiped out states, and earthquakes swallowed huge chunks of nations, leaving islands or nothing in their wake. It wasn’t a time she’d have wanted to live in. That was seven hundred years ago and a few territories still felt the effects of it.

Some territories found themselves overrun with supernaturals because they’d had a natural immunity to The Great Sickness that had swept through the human race. It was said to have originated from a combination of pollution, technology and germ warfare. Molly wasn’t for sure. No one was. Scientists continued to study the time, doing their best to figure out what, exactly, had gone wrong to prevent it from happening again but they had not, as of yet, found the answers.

Certain territories modeled themselves after what they had once known. The Old World Territory, across the ocean, had done its best to retain the beauty of what had once been called Europe. Earthquakes had left what had once been called Asia a mass of independent islands, each their own territory now.

The New Frontier Territory stood strong on what used to be called the United States of America, Mexico, part of South America and Canada. It was a bit harsher than some territories. Its people were rugged, independent, refusing to be labeled under the banner of The Old World Territory just as Molly had read the people of the area had once done, long ago. For the most part, they all co-existed. It just seemed to be the New Frontier folk were a bit harder around the edges.

Hard around the edges.

She snorted. That just about summed her up.

Most of the wars that took place now occurred between planets, not territories. The biggest problem the territories faced domestically was policing their criminals. Each had a different set of bad guys and an equally different way of handling them. As a Special Marshal, she was required to learn every territory’s customs, respect and uphold them.

Molly snorted. “Right.”

Tossing open the bedroom door, she expected to find Cole and Lynnette there, laughing it up about her fainting. She didn’t find either of them. Staring at the tawny back of solid muscle, Molly debated moving, letting the man know she was there. He was six feet five inches of pure perfection and he was making breakfast. Her mouth watered for both the food and the man.

Visually tracing the curve of his sculpted jean-covered ass, Molly whimpered. He turned. The second a pair of golden eyes fell on her, she stiffened. “Jonathan?”

He dropped his spatula and put his hand down on the stovetop as his jaw dropped. Jonathan’s unnatural eyes widened. “Molls, you’re…you’re…naked.”

Naked?
She glanced down. She wasn’t naked. She was wearing a man’s shirt.
Oh my word, I’m in
Jonathan
’s
shirt and it’s see
-
through.

Molly went to cover herself and froze when she spotted his hand still on the stovetop. It was sizzling. Smoke rose up and the smell of burnt flesh filled the room. “Jon, your hand!”

Without thought, Molly rushed at him and grabbed his hand to her, cradling the scorching hot skin to her chest. Need slammed through her as his finger skimmed over the swell of her breast. Her power flared, seizing the chance to run cool energy out and over his hand. Her nipples hardened instantly and Jonathan let out a tiny gasp.

“Molls?”

“What were you thinking?” she asked, in reference to him letting his hand lay on a hot stovetop.

Jonathan jerked slightly, but kept his hand pressed to her chest. “Me? I was thinking ‘Molls is naked, or damn close to naked, in my kitchen.’ And then I thought, naked. And, well, naked.” His cheeks flared to red. “Pretty much, you naked was the only thing on my mind.”

Tipping her head, Molly couldn’t help but smile at the man. “Jonathan MacSweeny, you have seen me naked before and I do mean
naked
.”

A dark shadow passed over his face and she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Reminding him of their last time seeing one another, before she was sent away at age sixteen, had only opened old wounds. Ones she’d hoped would remain closed. The last time she’d been face to face with Jonathan, he’d carried her trembling, naked form from the livery Gerald had taken advantage of her in. Jonathan had wrapped her in a horse blanket, lifted her gently and cried silent tears as he took her from that horrid place. He’d delivered her to the tender care of her aunt and uncle and that had been it.

Shaking her head, Molly forced the memories from her mind. “Forget I said anything. I just—”

“Why are you marrying that guy?”

“Huh?” she asked, unsure what Jonathan was talking about. “What are you going on about?”

“That guy. The blond marshal?” Jonathan’s golden eyes narrowed, making him look every bit as deadly as she knew he could be. “The outlaws said he was your fiancé. The man even said as much.”

The thought of being engaged to Cole made a laugh tear free from Molly. When Jonathan didn’t join in she tried to stop herself but failed. “I don’t even know how to answer. Let me see to your hand, get dressed, and then we’ll catch up.”

He arched a black brow. “Don’t you want to put some more clothes on before you
see
to me?”

Was that a suggestive note in his voice? Molly stared up at her handsome friend and found herself smiling yet again. “What is it about you, Jonathan MacSweeny? I get around you and I’m suddenly Susie Sunshine. It’s always been that way and I suspect it always will be.”

Not giving him a chance to answer, Molly wiggled a bit. “You’re right, I should get dressed. Where are my clothes?”

“I laid a dress out for you on the foot of the bed. Didn’t you see it?”

She swallowed hard. “No, well, yes but…I-I, umm...” Nodding, she drew away from Jonathan and put her back to him. “Thank you but I’d rather put my own clothes back on. Not that there’s anything wrong with your wife’s clothing but I’d feel better dressed in my normal wear.”

“Normal wear,” Jonathan mused. “Meaning clothes made for a man? For a job that is for a man too?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, Molly snorted. “Not you too, Jon. I thought you’d be different. I thought you’d understand why I chose the path I did.” She sighed. “Then again, I never thought you’d do it.”

“Do what?”

Get married.
“Nothing.”

Jonathan moved in close behind her, pressed his body to hers, making cream build between her thighs. As his rock-hard erection dug into her lower back, Molly hissed as though it was she who had been burned. It wasn’t right to desire another woman’s husband. Still, she did. “Jon, please.”

His hands touched her hips and Molly moaned. A manly chuckle escaped him. “Please what, Molls?”

Jonathan slipped his hands under the shirt she wore, allowing skin-to-skin contact to be made. Fire shot through her as his long fingers inched their way under her thong. His breathing was ragged. As was hers.

“Jon. We can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, trying to step forward but he pulled her back at him. He yanked hard and ripped her thong from her body. She gasped. “No.”

“You don’t want me?” he asked, pressing his lips to her ear as he ground his hips against her bare bottom. “I can smell your desire.” He inched his hands lower. “You’re wet with it.”

She was but that wasn’t the point. “Jonathan, we can’t do this.”

“We’re just standing here. That’s all.”

Yeah right.

Her pussy ached to be touched by him, to know the wonder that a MacSweeny could surely provide. There wasn’t a time in her life that she could recall not wanting Jonathan. Having him so close while she was so aroused was dangerous. Willpower and Jonathan were not things her mind registered as being synonymous. No. If he told her he wanted to fuck her, she’d gladly receive him, consequences be damned.

He cupped her ass cheek and squeezed gently. A growl tore free from his throat. “Molls, I can smell how much you want me in you. I want to be there.” He slipped his fingers between the crack of her ass. “And here.” Sliding them down, he found her wet slit and boldly thrust a finger into her cunt.

Molly’s body fought back, clenching down on his finger as she drew in a sharp breath. “Jonathan!”

“So tight.” He thrust his finger in farther. “Why, Molls? Why give this to another man?”

She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. Jonathan’s touch drove her mad with need and she found herself rocking against his hand, riding the pleasure when she should have been running the other way.

“Tell me why you agreed to marry another, Molls. Tell me.”

“Jon, please,” she murmured, unsure what exactly she was begging for. All Molly did know was her body craved Jonathan and wanted him in her, impaling her with his hard cock.

Jonathan brought her close to orgasm and withdrew his fingers a second before she would have climaxed. Bringing his glistening fingers to his lips, he licked them clean, never once taking his eyes off her.