Legacy Page 8

  “I want you to tell me why you were in that alley,” he finished, watching her expectantly.

  The words sank in, just as the stone of disappointment sank into the pit of her stomach.

  No heated kisses, then. Only cold truth.

  But he wouldn’t win. She wouldn’t let him. If she won, he’d leave her alone all week, and she could finish what she started with that bastard, Hess.

  Heart in her throat, tension in her shoulders, she met his gaze with all the gumption she could muster.

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Shoot! Best two out of three,” he exclaimed, staring in wonder at his toppled king beside her triumphant queen.

  She giggled, her face glowing, her eyes bright. Lord, but she was glorious when she was happy. Something in his chest tightened, the twinge of something strange yet wondrous, but he didn’t have time to think on it. Not if he wanted Joanna to tell him what she was up to.

  “Give me another chance, Joanna,” he pleaded, not caring how desperate he sounded. He knew from experience that women liked a man who could appear vulnerable. His sisters often enjoyed poking fun at his exposed heart, but they’d apologize soon after, easily mending anything they hurt.

  To say he was a man of vulnerabilities was true, but he was also a man who knew what those vulnerabilities were…and used them to his advantage.

  She laughed again, but this time, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “No. A deal’s a deal, Timmy-boy.” She pushed away from the table, readying to rise. Before he could think better about it, he reached out, trapping her hand against the table. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened just a bit—he could see her pink tongue there, behind her perfect, white teeth. The same tongue that nearly bowled him over when she’d licked her lips not forty-five minutes ago.

  Focus!

  “Please, let me try again.” This time his voice was devoid of pleading, and instead was heavy with challenge. He’d only known Joanna three days, and he was still learning about her—in fresh and painful ways—but one thing he did know about her was that she loved a challenge.

  She arched an eyebrow and the corner of her lovely mouth tipped up. “You think you can win this time, do you?”

  He couldn’t trust his voice quite yet, so he nodded instead.

  “What will make this game different?” she asked, settling back into her chair.

  He watched her as she moved; understated grace, lush curves, the perfect shape of her brows over the startling gold of her eyes. The flecks of gold over her cheeks; freckles that added to what was the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

  Her expression changed to annoyed and he finally remembered she’d asked him a question.

  “What will make this game different? Well, this time I plan to not let myself get distracted,” he said honestly. He almost grinned like a fool when the color began to rise in her face.

  “Distracted? By what?” she seemed almost afraid to ask, but the curious sprite in her wanted to know.

  He tipped his head to one side and pulled the hand still trapped under his across the table. Her eyes widened further, until they were two tea saucers. But she said nothing. Then he picked up her hand, raising it to his chin. Her mouth dropped open—there was that tongue again.

  He swallowed down the urge to reach across the table, cradle her face, and kiss the breath from her body. “You, my dear Joanna, are a distraction. It’s one of the reasons I need to know what you were doing in that alley. Please, give me one more chance to win the information I seek?” He laid it all out, then sent a silent prayer heavenward. Lord, give me the strength and patience to deal with this woman and all the emotions and frustrations she brings.

  Joanna attempted to pull her hand away, but he held fast, knowing she couldn’t escape if he didn’t let her go. She pinched her lips shut, then opened them again, and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Oh, I’m a distraction? That’s ridiculous! I’m just as easy to forget as a fourth cousin’s birthday,” she muttered. There was something in her tone, the way she said ‘distraction’ that made him wonder…

  “No. You’re not,” he replied, his voice deep and his words strong. He wouldn’t let her think of herself that way. He’d just met her, and he knew, even as his heart beat in his chest, he’d never forget her.

  She looked like she wanted to argue, even going so far as to lift a finger to wag it at him. But she didn’t. Instead, she planted her elbow on the table beside the chess board and met his gaze.

  “Fine. One more game. One more chance, Tim. Then, you leave me alone for the week.”

  He smiled at her, but she flicked her gaze to their entwined hands, still just at his chin. He knew he should have just let her go, but he couldn’t. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over her knuckles. She gasped and tugged her hand. He released her hand and watched as she cradled it to her chest, like a precious babe in need of warmth.

  A laugh bubbled up from his belly. “Good. Shall we play?”

  Ten minutes later, Tim was grumbling to himself. Why hadn’t he paid more attention to Mrs. Watkins when she was teaching him strategies? He knew the basics—which pieces were what, how they were allowed to move, their importance in the scheme of the game. But no matter what he did, what piece he moved, Joanna was already three steps ahead. His glanced up at her from under his lashes. She was studying the board, biting her bottom lip.

  He nearly groaned at the thought of him taking her bottom lip into his mouth. Heaven knew he wasn’t an experienced kisser, but after their kiss the day before…he knew what he wanted. He wanted her, her mouth against his, his lips pressing against hers. Her taste on his tongue. Her moans colliding with his. He wanted to kiss her as no other man would ever kiss her. He wanted to claim Joanna, not with his words, but with the whole of him—his mouth, his heart, his soul. He didn’t know what it was about Joanna that stole all reason, but he did know, without a single doubt in his mind, there was something special about her. Something he wanted to explore.

  Now, to get her to see him as more than just a silly farmer turned babysitter.

  Joanna moved her bishop across the board, knocking his rook from play. He swore under his breath.

  Get your head out of your hind end and focus! He chided himself. She’d only given him this last chance to win the information he needed. He had to know why Joanna was in that alley. He needed to know who that man was, and why Joanna was so danged fired up about getting into town. No, she hadn’t said anything about it, but the way she always looked toward the door, glanced at the clock, and even in the way she always seemed ready to bolt—he knew she wanted to be somewhere else.

  Was it him? Did she want to be anywhere but with him? Or did she want to be back in town, in that alley, getting into trouble?

  The clock on the mantle tick-tocked the passing minutes and Tim forced himself to look at his remaining pieces. He could still win. Think, think, think… What would Mrs. Watkins say to do with this queen, bishop, and three remaining pawns?

  Suddenly, as if a message from on high was thrown into his brain, he remembered a five-move strategy that could win. Smiling to himself, he moved his queen.

  Joanna scrunched up her face and pouted, and he couldn’t fathom how becoming that made her look.

  She moved her remaining rook.

  He moved his pawn, taking her last bishop.

  She growled but said nothing. She moved her pawn.

  He moved his queen, taking her rook, and robbing her of the chance to castle her king.

  She looked up at him from where she was leaned in over the board. What she saw in his face—he was probably grinning like a fool—made her all the more determined, if the pinch of her lips and the flare of her nostrils was any indication.

  She moved her queen, obviously trying to intercept and capture his bishop or trap his queen behind a row of her pawns.

  There! He saw his opening! He moved his queen into position. “Check!” he practically crowed into
the domed conservatory ceiling.

  Fire danced in her eyes and the heat of it made his breath catch. Oh, the little sprite didn’t like losing… He’d have to keep that in mind. But he would win this battle—and a battle it was. He just didn’t know what he was battling for, exactly. He wanted to know about the alley, certainly, but there was something else there, something beneath her actions, that told him she was headed into trouble.

  Joanna sat back, peering at the board with almost pin-point focus.

  She moved her king, in a rather sloppy move, one he could fault easily. Did she know she just handed him the game? He watched her expression. She looked determined, as wound up as a top. No…she didn’t.

  Fighting back a bird-eating grin, he moved his bishop. “Checkmate,” he said, unable to keep the triumph from his voice. He’d won! He should be jumping from his chair and taking her in his arms, dancing her around the fountain… Pulling her into his chest, cupping her face in his hands, kissing her. Tasting her.

  She tipped her king on his side in defeat, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Fine,” she drawled, “you won.”

  He mimicked her movements, leaning back and throwing his good arm over his chest. His shoulder didn’t hurt so much now.

  “So…out with it. Why were you in that alley? Who was that man who tried to choke you to death?”

  Joanna met his gaze with steely eyes and sighed. “I was there looking for someone,” she said plainly.

  “Who?”

  “Dalton Hess.”

  The name was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Before he could ask, she continued.

  “He was the same man who attacked me.”

  Anger mingled with fear inside him. “Why are you looking for a man dangerous enough to try to kill a woman? Are you mad?” He shot to his feet and walked around the table, pulling Joanna to her feet. He’d only had the one arm to use, but she didn’t fight him. “Why are you looking for him?”

  Her face darkened and the angles of her cheeks and jaw sharpened. He could feel the tension roll from her like waves crashing against the rocks. “Because he killed my brother, that’s why! I want him to pay for what he did, and if that means risking my life to bring him to justice, I will.”

  Shocked, Tim could only stare down at this woman…a woman who’d apparently lost her mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  JoJo watched the color drain from Tim’s face. “What are you planning?” he asked, his voice strangely flat.

  Dang! I knew I shouldn’t have told him anything. Now he was asking more questions she wasn’t quite ready to answer. It was clear he thought her crazy for trying to seek justice on her own, so what would he think if she told him she was planning to stop Hess from ever committing another crime again. And she would, too. All on her own. She’d figure out what he was planning to do in town, and she would catch him red-handed.

  But then what? She hated that Tim was making her question her own plan—and the man didn’t even know what her plans were. Yet.

  “Joanna. I know you’re planning something that could get you killed. I know you are scared and worried and ‘bout ready to jump from your own skin.”

  “I’m not scared,” she snapped.

  “You were scared enough to bring a gun,” he drawled, not bothering to hide the smarmy look on his face. He knew he had her there, but how many times would he go on about his bullet wound? She hadn’t meant to shoot him, he’d gotten in the way.

  “Everyone has a gun, Tim. It’s unusual not to have one.”

  He threw his shoulders back. “I don’t have one, and I am doing just fine.”

  She snorted. “Says the man who was shot trying to save a stranger in a dark alley in the dead of night.” She knew she was being unfair. Tim had saved her life, and what had she done? She could’ve killed him. And honestly…his actions were brave, if a little idiotic. And endearing. How many men would act as Tim had? Not many, she admitted to herself. And she had no idea what to think about it.

  Tim grimaced, his handsome face sharpening over his angular jaw and cheekbones. Goodness, but anger made him downright attractive. JoJo bit her lip to keep from saying just that.

  “If I hadn’t followed you, you’d be dead, just a body in an alley with no one knowing who’d done the deed. Then Dalton Hess would’ve gotten away with another murder.”

  The truth slammed into her like a runaway horse. Timothy Hanlon, the fool farmer’s son, was right.

  She fell back into her seat, all the strength gone from her body.

  “So, what do you want from me?” she asked, hoping he’d be happy with a handshake and a quick ‘see you next week’.

  That question seemed to knock him for a loop; his eyes widened, his mouth slammed shut, and, if possible, every muscle in his body got harder. He turned his head, breaking their connection. JoJo watched curiously as Tim closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned again to meet her gaze.

  What she saw there floored her. Heat, need, deep glittering desire. It stole her breath and set her heart to galloping. She swallowed to speak, but found that no words would come out.

  “What do I want from you…” He seemed to marinate on the words, the deepness of his voice thrumming through her like a second heartbeat. “I want…” he paused, and so did her breathing. What did he want? What was she willing to give him?

  Anything.

  She leaned forward, her chest pounding, her throat tight, her mind shifting from terrified to excited.

  As if catching himself before falling, Tim pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked. Letting out a heavy sigh, he demanded, “I want to know what you’re planning. Everything, Joanna.”

  Everything… She sucked in a deep breath and watched him as he watched her, his gaze intense.

  “My brother, Joseph, was a sheriff’s deputy in Shawnee, Oklahoma. He was so proud of his badge; he shined that thing every chance he could,” the sweet sorrow of the memories crashed into her, and she smiled, even as tears pricked the back of her eyes. “I used to joke that he was going to shine the bronze right off that star, but he’d just laugh and keep on.” Her brother was one of the most brave, honorable, kind, generous men she’d ever known. It’s what made him a wonderful brother, and an even better deputy.

  Tim sat forward, leaning his good arm against the table. “He sounds like a good man,” he offered.

  She nodded. “He was. The town loved him, and he loved his job.”

  “What does Dalton Hess have to do with your brother?” Tim asked, the question flaying open her recently scabbing emotions.

  Sharp rage rose into her chest, exploding from her lips. “He was a no-good, low-down bank robber! Dalton and two of his mangy friends robbed the bank, shooting one of the tellers. Then, when Joe got there, Hess shot him dead in the street—didn’t even give my brother a chance to draw his gun.” A sob choked her, and Tim shot to his feet, coming around the table and wrapping his good arm around her shoulders.

  His strength, his warmth, the very presence of him, stilled the wild, screaming wounded animal within her, clawing at her common sense, yowling to be set free. He squeezed her shoulder, and she found herself leaning into him, gently placing her head against the hardness of his chest. His constant, steady, strong heartbeat, setting a new, slower pace for hers.

  “Joanna…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tim’s voice came out in a heavy whisper.

  “He needs to pay, Tim. Hess needs to pay for killing Joe. He has to…” she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. She turned into Tim, and he wrapped his arm around her, tucking her head under his chin. Lord, but the man smelled nice. He smelled of hard work, cleanliness…home. Tim smelled of home.

  For long moments, JoJo sobbed into him, and he only held her. She couldn’t explain how good it felt to lean into someone, to be vulnerable with someone, to let someone else be the strong one.

  He can be so much more…

  Struck by t
he intimacy of her position, she pulled back. She immediately missed the warmth and comfort of Tim’s embrace. “My plan is to stop Dalton Hess and capture him,” she said, her voice becoming steadily stronger.

  Tim sighed and dropped his arm. “Stop him from doing what? Capture him how? Joanna, you’re one woman—against a gang of criminals. What can you do?”

  His words only echoed what the doubt had been whispering into her ears since she’d boarded the train in Shawnee with the plan to spy on Hess.

  “I’m still figuring things out,” she admitted, turning away from his disbelieving gaze.

  “You have no plan?”

  She tipped up her chin, but still didn’t look at him. “Not yet, not really.”

  She heard him move around the table, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as Tim started walking toward the path that lead to the door.

  Suddenly alarmed, she stood. “Where are you going?” She couldn’t fathom it, but for some reason, she needed him with her.

  He stopped and turned back to her, pinning her with an unyielding expression. The man’s face was all hard lines and hollows, and she was momentarily mesmerized. He shifted and broke the spell, and she blinked to dispel the haze over her vision.

  “I’m going to talk to Uncle Thomas.”

  Terror shook her, and she ran to him, taking his free hand into her trembling ones. “Please, don’t! You can’t!” she pleaded.

  He looked down at their entwined hands and seemed to pause, his breathing shuddered. Finally, he asked, “Why not?”

  Moment of truth, just tell him everything, just as he wants.

  “My ma wanted me to stop getting into trouble in Shawnee, so she suggested I visit family in New York. I didn’t want to leave… I wanted to stay in town, where Joe was. Where I could visit him on the little hill overlooking the pond behind our house.”

  Tim’s expression softened, but his mouth remained a hard, thin line.

  “I’d heard that Sheriff Bosing had caught one of the weasels that had robbed the bank. That man said that a man named Dalton Hess had planned the whole thing, and he was the man who shot my brother.”