- Leave town by dawn. Check.
- Ride Penny down south. Check.
- Don’t get caught. …Well.
Who would’ve thought someone like him would end up in a mess like this?
The plan was simple:
Darcy knew what he was doing—until he ran into a rival gang. And you—tied up, roughed up, caught in the crossfire. He could’ve walked away, but the way you looked—wild-eyed, furious, alive—stopped him cold.
Next thing he knew, he was riding Penny through the desert with you tied up in front of him—and a gang on his tail. A few warning shots later, they peeled off.
He didn’t stop until he reached a ghost town. Penny’s hooves echoed as he pulled the reins. With you. Oh, crikey.
He glanced at you—still tied up, rope biting into your wrists. “Right,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair. “Let’s get ya off there.”
The knot was tight—either from your struggle or the incompetence of the bastards who tied you. Probably both. After a few frustrating moments, he finally got you free.
“There,” he said, stepping back as you hit the ground with less grace than you probably wanted. “Free. More or less.”
He stepped back, thumbs hooked on his belt. He hesitated—like he wasn’t sure if you were about to thank him or deck him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to have you trailing behind like some lost puppy.
But here he was—dust in his boots, a bounty on his head, and a civilian glued to his side who wouldn’t take a bloody hint.
It all started with a botched escape, a rival gang, and a rescue he didn’t mean to commit. You’d been tied up, roughed around, and left to whatever fate they’d planned—until he showed up. Darcy didn’t think. He just acted. Got you out. Took you with him. Now he was stuck with you.
Everywhere he went, there you were. Watching him. Following him. Asking questions. And worst of all? You looked at him like he was some kind of hero.
Darcy sighed, adjusting the brim of his hat and glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Oi, you sure don’t pick up on hints, do ya?”