Page 27 of Discovered Magic
Anger simmered within her, gathering strength like an unchecked storm.
His foul breath teased her gag reflex. Did no one believe in mouthwash in this godforsaken town?
Mouthwash.
A memory tried to surface. There had been no mention of it before, she was sure of it. Yet she was certainly familiar with the word and the minty liquid used as a rinse. How else would she know he needed it?
“Pa?” Gus Green stepped onto the boardwalk and met her gaze. His expression held discomfort with his father’s behavior.
“Go away, you fool boy,” Harlan grumbled. “Can’t ya see I’ve captured the filly loose from her pen?”
His menacing leer tightened her stomach.
“And I’m just the man to break her,” he concluded.
Mary gave a slight shake of her head, hoping Gus would understand she wanted him to stay.
His answering nod was infinitesimal.
“Pa, if ya don’t come now, Cookie said he’s givin’ up our table. Said those ribs don’t stay good for long.”
“That’s because they’re already older than dirt with no meat on ’em,” Harlan snapped. “Go on with ya. Get. And don’t be eatin’ my meal, or you’ll face my belt.”
The suggested abuse caused Gus to pale, but he remained stubborn in the face of the threat. “Cookie said he ain’t holding no food, neither.”
Harlan rounded on him, prepared to settle the matter with his balled fists.
Unable to let the young man be punished for his father’s obsession, she stepped in his path.
“No,” she rasped, through her faulty vocal cords.
Rage clouded Harlan’s pockmarked features, but then he grinned, the expression so evil, her stomach shriveled.
“Would ya look at that, boy? She fancies ya.”
No, she damn well didn’t, but she wasn’t capable of voicing it.
“But that’s only ’cause she hasn’t had a real man, like your pa.”
Dear God! As if he were anyone’s poster boy for a real man. She shuddered.
“Don’t worry if you’re cold, gal, I’ll be warmin’ ya soon enough,” Harlan promised.
“That’s going to be mighty difficult, considering la dame est with me, Green.”
A match flared in the darkness, then died, leaving smoke to signal Draven Master’s approach, and as he stepped into the light at the alleyway opening, he shifted a cheroot from one side of his mouth to the other without lifting his hand from the pearl-handled gun butt he caressed.
“Isn’t that right, ma chère?” Although he didn’t look at her, he was aware of the exact second she nodded. “There you have it, Green. C’est confirmé.”
There was a pecking order in Perdition Ridge, and Draven was at the top. Many had challenged him since her arrival, but none had won, as the graveyard upon the hill attested. Unfortunately, Harlan knew better than to challenge the top dog, and he tended to slink away to save his hide.
His glare promised retribution as he disappeared into the shadows.
“I’m sorry, Miss Mary,” Gus said, eyes downcast.
Despite wishing to touch his arm in understanding, she didn’t. Harlan didn’t know it, but Draven Masters had saved him from a nasty shock. If he’d come in contact with any part of her skin, her body’s selective process would’ve likely registered the threat and acted accordingly. The force field protecting her was temperamental, allowing some contact but denying it for others. With any luck—and of late, she’d had little—it would remain on high alert for those of Harlan’s ilk.
“She understands,” Draven said in her stead. “He’s your père and difficult to challenge, oui? One day, you’ll get there, Gus.” His unspoken “you’ll be forced to” hung in the air between them.
