The Reluctant Outlaw. Karen Kirst

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       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my husband, Marek—

      thank you for your endless support and

      encouragement. You are my voice of reason.

      Without you, there would be no laughter in my life.

      To my parents, Richard and Dorothy Kirst—

      thanks, Mom, for all those trips to the library.

      I wouldn’t be living this dream today had it not been

      for you. And Dad, your generosity

      is what I love most about you.

      To my critique partners—

      my sister Shelly Benson, niece Jessica Price,

      and best friend, Danielle Mattson—thank you

      for your insights and encouragement

      on this journey to publication!

      A big thanks to my editor Emily Rodmell!

      You took a chance on me and I’m so thankful you did!

      My ultimate thank-you goes to my Heavenly Father

      God and His Son Jesus Christ!

      Apart from Him, I can do nothing.

      For God has not given us a spirit of fear,

      but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

      —2 Timothy 1:7

       Chapter One

       Gatlinburg, Tennessee June 1880

      Blocking the entrance to Clawson’s Mercantile, Evan Harrison tried to blend in with the overhang’s shadows. He’d dressed in head-to-toe black, his hat pulled low to shade his eyes. Leaning against the glass-paned door, arms crossed and one ankle slung carelessly over the other, he could’ve been waiting for someone or simply watching the morning rush of people. What passersby couldn’t see was his heart’s sharp tattoo against his rib cage and the sweat sliding between his shoulder blades to trickle down his spine.

      His narrowed gaze flicked to and fro, his muscles bunched and ready to spring should anyone head his way. Hurry up, Fitz. He wondered how Art was doing in the back alley.

      This wasn’t his first holdup, so why the unease? He scanned the crowd again, and the burning in his gut grew worse. He was worried about Fitz. The outlaw inside the mercantile was a wild card. Lenny Fitzgerald had proven time and again that he wasn’t afraid to spill innocent blood. And he wasn’t particular about his victims.

      Evan had done his best to prevent the violence, but he could only do so much without arousing suspicion. He couldn’t take a chance of blowing his cover. He’d worked too hard and waited too long to have that happen now.

      He closed his eyes, wishing he could put off the inevitable. Then he remembered the reason he was there and his resolve hardened. He was on a quest for justice, and he would get it. No matter what.

      He snapped his eyes open at the sound of someone approaching. Shifting his head to the right, he caught sight of a young woman striding down the boardwalk in his direction, her boots clipping the weathered planks with determination. She was on a mission, it seemed.

      Please let her be headed anywhere else but here, he thought.

      As she neared, he couldn’t help but notice her bold beauty. Sleek red hair peeked out from beneath a navy-and-cream floral-print bonnet framing an oval-shaped face. He admired her ivory complexion, so rare in redheads, and the pert nose, regal cheekbones and generous mouth. Her sturdy navy dress outlined a pleasing female form, tall yet graceful.

      She must’ve noticed him staring, for she quirked a cinnamon eyebrow, her lips firming in disapproval. Her eyes raked him before meeting his gaze head-on. One jerk of her chin hinted of a stubborn streak.

      “Excuse me.” She speared him with her gaze. “You’re blocking the entrance.”

      Her eyes were green, not the expected blue. Deep green, the color of spruce trees streaked with sunset gold.

      Straightening, Evan plucked the hay from his mouth and tossed it to the ground.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ