The Outlaw's Redemption. Renee Ryan

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      She’d been glad she’d gone, too. Only one other person had attended the funeral besides Annabeth. Maria’s estranged husband, Hunter.

      “Family?” Mattie spat out the word in derision. “She was that horrible woman’s daughter.”

      “She was my sister.”

      “Your half sister. She had no relation to me.”

      “Regardless, Maria was always good to me,” Annabeth defended. “She was my blood kin. I loved her and she loved me.” Turning to look at Hunter, she added, “She loved you, too.”

      He showed no reaction to the declaration, other than a careful narrowing of his eyes. “Did you know about the child when we met at the funeral?”

      The question brought them back to the real issue at hand. Hunter might have been kind to her, once, long ago, when they were both much younger. But she knew what sort of man he’d become since then. Lawless, tough, a member of a ruthless gang.

      Tread carefully, Annabeth.

      “No, I didn’t know about Sarah at the time,” she answered truthfully. “Maria kept her existence a secret from me, too.”

      “I find that hard to believe.”

      So had Annabeth. She’d been terribly hurt when she’d discovered the truth. But that hadn’t stopped her from building a life with Sarah once she’d discovered her niece’s existence. A safe, respectable existence now threatened by this man’s inopportune arrival.

      How had matters gotten so quickly out of hand?

      “Who knows what was in Maria’s head at the time of her death.” Annabeth closed her eyes against the image of the last time she’d seen her sister alive. Her beauty gone, the sunken cheeks and eyes, the despair. “She was sick, Hunter, and delirious most of the time in her final days.”

      “Yet she was lucid enough to send the child to Charity House instead of telling me about her.” Hunter’s voice cut through the room like a dagger. “I wonder why.”

      Didn’t he know? “She was protecting Sarah, from you.”

      “From me.” He spoke softly, his amber eyes lit with raw emotion.

      “By the time she became ill you weren’t exactly a model of good behavior.”

      “True.”

      Annabeth sighed at the regret in his voice, and the remorse. Such remorse. Had he changed?

      Dare she hope?

      “I understand why Maria didn’t tell me about the child, but why didn’t she tell you?”

      Annabeth lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps she was protecting Sarah from me, too.”

      “You? No.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

      “What could I have done for her at the time? I was a child myself, spoiled and selfish and—”

      “I don’t remember you that way.”

      He didn’t? How did he remember her? Had he thought of her through the years like she’d thought of him? Did he...

      No. Oh, no. She could not let down her guard like this. “I was certainly too young to raise a child by myself.”

      “Perhaps.” He fell silent then.

      So did Annabeth.

      Mattie eyed them both, gave a little sigh, then entered the conversational void with gusto. “Hunter, you must know it’s not too late to change the situation. You can retrieve your daughter from Charity House and start fresh. You can—”

      He raised a hand to silence her. “Stay out of this, Mattie.”

      She scowled. “I’m only trying to help.”

      “Yes, yes.” He tossed a dismissive flick of his fingers in her direction. “Now hush. I need a moment to think.”

      “Of course.” Mattie pressed her lips tightly together and, surprisingly, didn’t speak again.

      The groove between Hunter’s eyes dug deep, his mind clearly working through the various revelations of the past few moments.

      Maybe, when he thought the matter through to the end, he wouldn’t want the responsibility of a child.

      Oh, Lord, please. Let him walk away tonight.

      Spearing his fingers through his hair, Hunter paced the room with hard, clipped steps. Back and forth he went, moving with the lethal grace of a large, menacing cat. Every few steps his hands clenched into fists, as though he were trying to control his pent-up emotions.

      Understandable.

      While he continued walking off his thoughts, Annabeth followed his progress with her eyes.

      He’d changed since she’d seen him last and none of the changes were for the worse. His lean, long-legged body had filled out with the muscles of a man used to physical labor. His skin was a little weathered, and his hair had darkened to a rich, sandy-blond, the tips burnished by the sun.

      He was dressed in stark black from head to toe. And even without a pair of six-shooters strapped to his hips, he had the swagger of a gunslinger. His square jaw, defined features and the shadow of a beard made him look threatening.

      A formidable foe under any circumstance.

      Her rebel heart found that bit of insight beyond exciting. Not that she’d actually choose to pursue a relationship with a man like him, but she could certainly allow her mind to...wonder. Perhaps she had a little more of her mother in her than she cared to admit.

      A hideous discovery that couldn’t possibly be true.

      Unused to giving up control of a situation for long, Mattie rose from her chair and stepped into Hunter’s direct path. “Yes, well, facts are facts. You have a daughter. You must take on the responsibility of raising her and—”

      “No.” Annabeth rushed forward, moving in front of her mother, fighting desperately for the right words to steer Hunter away from what Mattie suggested. “You can’t just show up and claim Sarah as your child. She doesn’t even know you.”

      “An oversight I plan to rectify immediately.”

      “But—” Think, Annabeth, think. “She’s happy at Charity House. It’s the only home she’s ever known. She has friends there, people who love her, people who care for her.”

      “People like you?”

      “Yes. People like me. Please, Hunter.” She reached for his arm, then pulled her hand back before making contact. “Think this through. Now is not the time for hasty decisions.”

      “No. It’s not.” He looked torn, confused and maybe—dare she hope?—ready to СКАЧАТЬ