The Ranger. Carol Finch
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“You are going to disrobe in front of me?” Shiloh squawked, her voice two octaves higher than normal.
Logan rose to his feet with the graceful ease of a mountain cat, then shrugged casually. “I planned to undress behind your back, but that’s really up to you. If you want to watch—”
“I certainly do not want to watch!” she loudly objected.
Shiloh glared at her taunting captor when he jerked the soggy-fringed shirt over his head. The sight of his rippling muscles and washboard belly had her struggling to breathe normally.
Blast it, she couldn’t figure out this man. One moment he seemed a dangerous threat, and the next instant he was playfully teasing her. His unpredictability made it impossible to guess what he planned to do next.
Praise for Carol Finch
“Carol Finch is known for her lightning-fast,
roller-coaster-ride adventure romances that are
brimming over with a large cast of characters
and dozens of perilous escapades.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
Praise for previous novels
The Ranger’s Woman
“Finch delivers her signature humor, along with a
big dose of colorful Texas history, in a love
and laughter romp.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
Lone Wolf’s Woman
“As always, Finch provides frying-pan-into-the-fire
action that keeps the pages flying, then spices up
her story with not one, but two romances,
sensuality and strong emotions.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
The Ranger
Carol Finch
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated to my husband Ed and our
children, Christie, Jill, Kurt, Jeff, Jon, and Shawnna.
And to our grandchildren, Brooklynn,
Kennedy, Blake, and Livia,
With much love.
Contents
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
Chapter One
West Central Texas, 1870s
L ogan Hawk glanced this way and that, calculating his chances of stealing the stolen money and making a fast getaway. Five bandits were sprawled beside him on their bedrolls, and if they woke up, they’d blast him out of the saddle. As dawn filtered across the rugged landscape, Hawk eased to his side then came silently to his feet.
Although he’d infiltrated this outlaw gang three months earlier to gather information for the Texas Rangers, he decided to get out while the getting was still good. He had posed as an Apache renegade, who scouted for the bandits, in exchange for a share of the loot. But he had yet to figure out who was mysteriously orchestrating the operations of this band of brigands—as well as the other three outlaw factions that were wreaking havoc in West Central Texas. Someone had taken meticulous care to make sure the bandit gangs were working in tandem like a well-oiled machine.
In addition, Hawk hadn’t picked up any leads about who had killed his mentor and friend eight months ago.
Casting another cautious glance at the sleeping men, Hawk noted the bank of roiling clouds that forewarned of a spring thunderstorm. If he didn’t get moving, the crackle of lightning and the rumble of thunder would rouse these hombres.
Hawk hadn’t unsaddled his black mustang pony before last night’s raucous celebration so he could make a quick exit this morning. Neither had he bothered to undress. He hoped to be to hell and gone before the gang members roused from their drunken stupor and noticed he was missing.
Hawk skulked toward the stash of stolen money. Kneeling behind the scrub bush, he scooped up the saddlebags. He spared the scraggly-looking thieves one last glance as he circled the stand of cottonwood trees to retrieve his horse.
With the saddlebags tied in place, Hawk swung onto his mount. He breathed a long-suffering sigh of relief as he walked his horse through the grove of trees. Rubbing shoulders with these outlaws and pretending to be one of them left a sour taste in his mouth. He was more than ready to associate with someone who had more respect for humanity than these cutthroats. Like the other scoundrels he’d encountered during his seven-year stint with the Texas Rangers, these men had no consciences whatsoever. Their souls were as black as the devil’s.
Of course, he hadn’t needed to spend three months with this particular pack of ruffians to figure that out. One day had been plenty….
His thoughts scattered when thunder boomed overhead. A shout of alarm and a call to arms rose behind him. Hawk cursed sourly. Well, so much for his uneventful departure from the bandit camp with the confiscated loot in hand. He glanced back to see banditos staggering clumsily to their feet to mount up and give chase. Although he’d released the other horses, they hadn’t wandered far so it didn’t take long to regather them. Damn the luck! The desperadoes were hot on his trail in nothing flat. Hawk nudged his pony into a faster pace to take a shortcut that would provide him with a better head start.
And he was going to need one because the furious hombres were bellowing threats about which of his body parts they were going to chop off for stealing their stolen money.
Shiloh Drummond backstroked across the river, enjoying her early-morning swim. The nearby cove, flanked by a thirty-foot limestone cliff, provided protection, seclusion and a sense of peace. And what she really needed right now was a sense of peace so she could get a firm