The Outlaw's Redemption. Renee Ryan

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СКАЧАТЬ swirling between them.

      He cleared his throat.

      At the same moment, Annabeth threw back her shoulders.

      “I... I’ll just go fetch Sarah now.” She sounded practical and brisk, but sorrow pooled in her eyes, a sadness so deep Hunter drew a sharp breath.

      He went to her.

      Not sure what he meant to do, he took her hand. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes, a sure sign she’d endured a sleepless night.

      He tightened his hold on her hand. A moment of shared pain passed between them, so raw, so fresh, neither pulled away. He must have stared too long, seen too much, because she frowned, then yanked her hand free of his. “Wait here.”

      “Of course.”

      Alone with his thoughts, he felt a bout of nerves kindle and fire through his blood until he could remain in one place no longer. Letting out a hiss, he paced the room. Back and forth, back and forth. Back. And. Forth.

      Hope squeezed in his chest. If he played this right, if he stayed on the narrow path and settled down once and for all, he could have the life he’d always wanted, the one he’d nearly achieved with Jane.

      Dare he try again? Did he deserve to have a family of his own, not in the role of a husband to his wife, but as a father to his daughter? Or were there too many mistakes on his ledger to hope for a smooth, uncomplicated existence?

      The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled, sending alarm tripping down his spine. The same sensation had kept him alive in more than one gunfight. Motionless, afraid of what he would see, he didn’t turn around to face the parlor’s entrance. He closed his eyes and opened his other senses instead.

      Holding steady, he sorted through the sounds coming from various points throughout the house. He focused in on the high-pitched prattle of a young female voice mingling with an older, more familiar one. The rapid staccato of the conversation made it impossible for him to decipher the words.

      But he knew those footsteps.

      Annabeth. Her return was a mere seconds away. That meant the other voice must belong to Sarah.

      Sarah.

      Hunter’s hand started to shake. Flexing his fingers, he opened his eyes and resolved to keep his emotions contained.

      No mistakes.

      No loss of control.

      Calm. Cool. Careful.

      The wait was endless, an eternity. The voices grew louder, closer. The individual words were muffled as they mingled with the footsteps, but there was obvious affection in both female voices. Love, too.

      Hunter’s throat closed shut.

      His daughter—if she was his daughter—was well loved. By Annabeth. And no doubt others who lived in this house. His shoulders shifted, then went still again. He forced himself to turn toward the doorway, to remain calm as he did so.

      With his arms hanging loosely by his sides, he planted his feet a little apart and tried not to hold his breath.

      Another moment passed.

      And then...

      Annabeth entered the room, her jawline tight. The moment their gazes connected her eyes deepened to a dark violet, the color of thunderclouds. The unmistakable warning beneath the turbulent expression was easy enough to read.

      A wasted gesture. Hunter had no intention of hurting his own daughter. Or Annabeth. Regardless of what she thought.

      A young girl suddenly shifted into view. And smiled directly at him.

      He fell back a step.

      Oh, Lord. Lord.

      Restraint shattered. Calm evaporated. Well-thought-out speeches died on his tongue. The only emotions left were shock, and longing. Painful, heartrending longing for something always just out reach.

      He hurt, at the core of his being. The sense of loss was overwhelming, loss over all he’d missed in his daughter’s life.

      And, yes, this happy child was his daughter. He had absolutely no doubt. Her hair was the exact color of her mother’s, her dark coloring the same. But it was his eyes staring back at him in that small, thin face.

      His daughter had his eyes. And his tall, lean build, mostly lanky at her age. He’d been lanky as a child, too. As had all of his brothers and sisters. It was a Mitchell trait.

      This girl was a Mitchell, through and through.

      What was he supposed to say now? Nine years ago he’d created this beautiful child with a woman who hadn’t wanted him, who’d rejected him. Lied to him, prevented him from knowing his own flesh and blood.

      Feeling mildly desperate, torn between anger and distress, he glanced at Annabeth for assistance. She was studying her feet as though all the secrets of the world were in the flowered rug beneath her toes.

      No help there.

      Sarah solved the problem for him. “Hello.” She continued beaming up at him. “I’m Sarah. Who are you?”

      There was no nervousness in the child, no fear. Just innocent curiosity. And a welcoming smile that cut straight to the bottom of Hunter’s black heart. The child had his smile, too.

      “Hello, Sarah.” He swallowed, cleared his throat, swallowed again. His voice sounded too raw, too hoarse with emotion. He swallowed one last time and tried again. “I’m your fa—”

      He cut off the rest of his words, something preventing him from declaring himself, something that ran deeper than his silent vow not to act on impulse. Perhaps he simply wanted the child’s easy manner to continue, didn’t want to watch that beautiful smile disappear when he declared who he was, and why he’d come here today.

      “My name is Hunter Mitchell. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”

      Not entirely true, but he had so little to work with here. He’d planned poorly for this moment, he realized that now. Annabeth wasn’t helping matters. She was now staring fixedly at some point over his shoulder, not acknowledging Hunter at all, as if afraid to give him an ounce of encouragement.

      “Did you say you were Hunter Mitchell?” Sarah’s dark eyebrows drew together slowly, her mind working fast, her eyes lit with excitement. And the sweetest emotion of all. Acceptance. “I know several people with that same name.”

      “Yeah?”

      “Uh-huh. Let me see.” She pressed her fingertip to her lips. “There’s Garrett, the twins and little Janie. Miss Megan.” She paused, her little eyebrows scrunching together. “Did you know Miss Megan used to live here, at Charity House, just like me?”

      Hunter smiled. He might not have kept his family abreast of his life, but he’d managed to keep up with theirs. “Actually, I did know that.”

      “And did you know that Miss Megan is married to Mr. Logan, and—” СКАЧАТЬ