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  Faster than the Rest

  MacLarens of Fire Mountain

  SHIRLEEN DAVIES

  Book Two in the MacLarens of Fire Mountain Series

  Copyright © 2013 by Shirleen Davies

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  For permission requests, contact the publisher.

  Avalanche Ranch Press, LLC

  PO Box 12618

  Prescott, AZ 86304

  Faster than the Rest is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.

  Cover artwork by idrewdesign.

  Description

  Handsome, ruthless, young U.S. Marshal Jamie MacLaren had lost everything—his parents, his family connections, and his childhood sweetheart—but he’s back in Fire Mountain and ready for another chance. Just as he successfully reconnects with his family and starts to rebuild his life, he gets the unexpected and unwanted assignment of rescuing the woman who broke his heart.

  Beautiful, wealthy Victoria Wicklin chose money and power over love, but is now fighting for her life—or is she? Who has she become in the seven years since she left Fire Mountain to take up her life in San Francisco? Is she really as innocent as she says?

  Marshal MacLaren struggles to learn the truth and do his job, but the past and present lead him in different directions as his heart and brain wage battle. Is Victoria a victim or a villain? Is life offering him another chance, or just another heartbreak?

  As Jamie and Victoria struggle to uncover past secrets and come to grips with their shared passion, another danger arises. A life-altering danger that is out of their control and threatens to destroy any chance for a shared future.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to our two younger sons, Eric and Drew. Eric for his continued encouragement of my writing during this next chapter of my life, and Drew for being my web and SEO guru. Love you both.

  Acknowledgements

  I want to thank my editor, Regge Episale, who continues to be a patient guide through the writing process. Thanks also to my beta readers. Their input and suggestions are always welcome.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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 Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books in the MacLarens of Fire Mountain Series

  Prologue

  “Stop right there, Wicklin.” The man’s voice came out of nowhere, hard and unwavering. It was well past midnight in the deserted wharf area of San Francisco, a time when people could disappear without a trace.

  Hamilton Wicklin stopped in his tracks and tried to make out the features of the man who stood in front of him. He was about Wicklin’s size and dressed in similar fashion, which indicated he came from wealth. The voice wasn’t familiar. Do I know him? He forced himself to stay calm. “Who are you? Are we acquainted?”

  The man moved closer, moonlight illuminating a small pistol. “No, you and I are not acquainted, but I believe you knew my brother. Knew him well, from what I’ve learned.”

  “Your brother? Who is your brother?” Hamilton’s mind raced.

  “Was, Wicklin. He’s dead. Died by his own hand after a poker game in which you were involved. In fact, you were the big winner that night. And the grand prize? The deed to my brother’s warehouse, inventory, and accounts. You remember Jonathon Bellows, don’t you?” The last came out as a sneer, the hatred evident.

  “You’re Bellow’s brother? I heard he had no kin.” Wicklin started to back away. He now understood the seriousness of this confrontation. Of course he remembered Bellows. Drunk, loud, and confrontational. It had only taken a few tricks, a few quick hands, and Wicklin had walked away with everything the fool owned.

  “Stay right where you are, Wicklin. We both know you used your skills to fleece my brother. Others had you figured out, but my brother was drunk and didn’t see it coming.” The gun ground into Hamilton’s gut, forcing him back against the edge of the waterfront. “Now, empty your pockets. We’ll walk back to your office and pick up the deed to my brother’s property. Then I’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Hamilton handed the man his watch, money, and some loose tokens from his pocket.

  “Well, well. What have we here?” The man used his free hand to pull open Hamilton’s lapel. “I’ll take those papers in your pocket, too.”

  Hamilton cared little about the watch and money, but he had hoped the man hadn’t spotted the documents he had taken from his safe in preparation for a meeting with his attorney. Too bad he hadn’t left them until morning. He handed them over.

  Bellow’s brother never took his eyes off Wicklin as he pocketed the papers. “Now, move.” The man grabbed Wicklin’s shoulder and shoved him.

  A voice with a Mexican accent came from behind the two men. “Ah, señor, I see you have done my work for me.”

  Fear raised the hair on Hamilton’s neck as he stared wild-eyed at Miguel Hagan, a murderous viper he had hoped to never see again. How did he find me? This was worse—much worse.

  “Who the hell are you?” Bellow’s brother hissed, and turned to point his gun in the direction of the voice.

  One moment Wicklin’s captor was threatening him with a gun, and the next he lay dead on the boardwalk. Miguel casually kicked the dead man’s body over the edge and into the cold, turbulent waters of the San Francisco Bay, then pointed his gun at Wicklin.

  Hamilton struggled to sound controlled, but his voice betrayed him, coming out in a choked whisper. “Miguel? What are you doing here?”

  Miguel smiled. “It is good, my friend, to know you have not forgotten me, as I am sure you know I have not forgotten you.”

  “Uh, look, I don’t have the money to pay you back. It’s gone.” Wicklin racked his mind for answers. He knew this man would kill him without regret, then walk away as if nothing had happened. Miguel Hagan was a cold-blooded killer.

  “But you are a wealthy man, señor. Do not lie to me. You already cheated me of many dollars, and now I want them back. Your wife will suffer if you do not pay me.” Miguel’s words were calm but the menace behind them was not lost on Hamilton.

  “You don’t understand. My money, all of it, is locked up in a trust. I have no access to it. There’s simply no money to give you.” Wicklin was pleading now, begging for a life he realized he had already lost.

  Miguel digested the words before he slammed his weapon into Hamilton’s face. The impact broke Wicklin’s nose and cut his brow.

  Hamilton crumbled to the ground, grabbed his face with one hand and held up the other
to ward off another blow. “Miguel, please. This won’t get you the money you want.”

  “I fear you have had your chances, my friend,” Miguel answered. His booted foot connected with Wicklin’s stomach. “Besides, your wife, she has no love for you. She will be pleased with you gone.”

  The next strike broke Hamilton’s ribs. He heaved and coughed. The last connected with his head. He writhed in pain.

  “No one will miss you, my friend. You chose to cheat the wrong man. It is too bad for you, I think.”

  Hamilton didn’t even feel the last blow before the cold waters of the bay swirled around and sucked him under.

  Chapter One

  “Talk to me, Tankard, or so help me God, I’ll shoot you where you sit.” Marshal Jamie MacLaren had reached the end of his patience. The lawman had followed Billy Tankard for weeks, sure the outlaw held the last piece of information Jamie needed to locate the hostage he had tracked for four long months.

  Billy raised his head, a sneer twisting his tight lips. “I ain’t telling you noth’n, MacLaren. Besides, you’re a lawman. You won’t shoot me.”

  “You think not?” Jamie’s anger rose and he worked hard to keep it under control before he did shoot this piece of cow dung. “Maybe I left my conscience behind when I took on the job of finding the woman you helped kidnap.” Tankard’s eyes snapped to Jamie’s, but he still said nothing. “Now, give me what I need or you’ll surely wish you had.”

  Sweat beaded on Billy’s forehead, trickled into his eyes. He swiped the moisture with the sleeve of his shirt and started to stand.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you. Just stay in your chair and answer my question. Now.” Jamie pulled the trigger on his Colt 45 Peacemaker, hitting the ground inches from Billy’s chair. Billy grabbed for his sidearm, but Jamie was too quick and a bullet hit Tankard’s right wrist before he could touch the handle of his gun.

  “Help me!” Tankard screamed to the others as he grabbed the now useless hand. “For God’s sake, someone help me!” The men at the tables in the Silver Bell Saloon sat rooted in their seats. No one in the dusty desert hovel raised a hand to intervene. They’d all heard about MacLaren and his reputation as a fast gun.

  “Now, dammit,” Jamie demanded one last time as another shot just missed Billy’s leg. “Believe me, Tankard, you’ll feel the next bullet, and the next, until you tell me what I need to know.” Jamie moved the barrel towards an area right below Billy’s stomach.

  “All right, all right,” Billy relented, defeat in his voice. “But you’re just gonna get killed over some whore that ain’t worth...” That was as far as he got before a rock hard fist slammed into his face, breaking his nose. Blood gushed over Billy’s lips and chin. He began rocking from side to side with his left hand covering his wounded face.

  “What’d you do that for?” It was all Jamie could make out of Billy’s mumbling.

  “Tell me what you know, Billy. I won’t repeat it again.” Jamie cocked the gun one more time. The hostage may be many things, but Jamie doubted the woman he sought had become a whore since he’d last seen her.

  The outlaw removed his hand to reveal eyes as wide as saucers. “I got held up in Blake Valley. Was s’pose to meet up here, but the gent,” he gestured with his head toward the piano player, “said they left with the whor…I mean…lady, a few days ago. Didn’t tell anyone where they were headed, but I’m think’n they rode south.”

  “Why south?”

  “Cause that’s where Hagan has his ranch. Holes up there when things get bad. It’s in the hill area east of San Diego, but you can’t get to him. The place is hard to find, guards everywhere. Only one way in and out. Nobody gets closer than a mile before the boys spot ‘em.” Billy paused, wincing at the pain radiating from his wrist.

  “Go on, Tankard. I know there’s more.” MacLaren had a talent for flushing out information others couldn’t, sensing things others didn’t. Those talents and his lightning fast skills with a gun made him the best at finding those who had been taken and returning them to their families. He never gave up. At twenty-five-years-old, he was already the best.

  Silence stretched between the two men. No one else in the saloon moved, all riveted on the scene before them. Billy swallowed hard, wiped his sleeve across his still bleeding nose, and coughed up blood.

  “She’s hurt. Bad. Got caught in gunfire over at Blake Valley. We all told Hagan to leave her, but he wouldn’t,” Billy scoffed, disgusted with the turn of events.

  Jamie knew they’d taken the woman out of her San Francisco home four months ago. Hagan and his men had proceeded to ride throughout California, Nevada, and Arizona to avoid detection while they continued their routine of robbing banks. He’d been hunting them the entire time.

  “This was s’pose to be a quick kidnappn’, get the money and cut her loose. Didn’t work out that way. Hagan changed plans when the ransom wasn’t paid. The boss didn’t want to kill her. Refused to leave her ‘cause he wanted her for himself. Doc said she’d never make the trip south, but Hagan wouldn’t hear it. They went ahead. I was s’pose to meet ‘em here. Used to be a good doc in this town, but he got himself killed a few months ago.” Tankard stopped to glare at the lawman. “That’s all I know. I swear it, MacLaren.”

  Sure it is. I’ve trailed your worthless hide long enough to know you haven’t told me everything. The lawman had no doubt there was more, but he would get the rest out of Tankard on the trip south.

  “Get up. You’re coming with me.” Jamie leveled his gun at Billy and motioned for him to stand.

  “Hell no. I ain’t going anywhere with you. Especially not near Hagan. He’ll kill you, and me, and no one will lift a finger to help,” Billy shook his head as he rose and started for the door.

  “Grab your stuff, Tankard. You’re leaving with me if I have to tie you to your horse and drag you to San Diego.”

  Billy scowled at MacLaren, but all the fight had gone out of him. He had accepted his fate. Except, if he could mount his horse fast enough he just might be able to outrun the marshal.

  “Don’t even think about it, Billy. I’ll catch you before you reach the town limits, then I will tie you to that horse.” MacLaren scanned the street while he watched Tankard mount. He holstered his gun, jumped onto Rebel’s back, and both men turned south toward San Diego.

  Chapter Two

  Hagan strolled over to the small bed. Victoria Wicklin felt the thin mattress sink from his weight as he sat down on the edge and looked at his hostage. She was wrapped in dirty blankets that covered her motionless body.

  Victoria watched him through veiled eyes. Miguel never felt remorse, took what he wanted, killed when needed, and lied with more ease than any man she’d ever met, except, perhaps, her husband. My husband, she thought with bitterness. Hopefully, someday, he will rot in hell.

  “You are better today, I think. Si, querida?” Miguel brushed strands of hair off her face as he spoke.

  Victoria scooted further away, unable to stand the stench of the man who’d captured her. “No, Miguel. I’m still not well. My body aches all over and my head pounds most of the time. I need to rest and sleep,” Victoria lied, hoping to discourage the disgusting man’s advances.

  Hagan’s property was located deep in a maze of mountain passages, at the end of a protected canyon. A good-sized expanse of pasture existed between the entrance and the dilapidated house, assuring all visitors could be spotted with ease, as could those trying to escape. Still, Victoria was determined to find a way out.

  At least Miguel no longer desired to bed her. He’d forced himself on her two months after the abduction when it seemed apparent her husband wouldn’t pay the ransom. His men had stood guard outside the filthy upstairs room in the saloon. Even if she’d been able to stop Miguel, his men wouldn’t have let her leave. Two more months had passed, and although he kept her with him, Miguel hadn’t taken her again, perhaps still hoping that Wicklin would produce the money.

  Then, three weeks ago, she’d
been caught between Miguel, his men, and an angry rancher the outlaw had cheated in a card game. Hagan was unaware the rancher hadn’t come alone. His sons, standing quietly at the bar, were also present, and what the bandit had thought would be a quick dispatch turned into a battle that left one of his men dead and several people wounded, Victoria included.

  Victoria hadn’t regained consciousness until they had arrived in another town. The pain overwhelmed her. Given what she’d learned of her captors over the past few months, it had surprised her along with everyone else that Hagan hadn’t abandoned her to face death alone. But he’d kept her with them as they traveled south to the mountains of San Diego. No one knew how she’d survived the trip. Miguel ordered one of his men to bring a doctor, and after two weeks, although her energy was low, she felt healed, but she would never admit it to Miguel.

  “You are a beautiful woman, Victoria. I should not have stopped after one time, I think. Tonight I will have you again.” The sneer on his face turned her stomach.

  Victoria remembered the other night and shuddered. At first she’d fought, before she’d realized her pathetic attempts were useless. He’d been angry with her, the way she laid on the bed without moving. He’d slapped her, called her foul names. Victoria had forced herself to focus her mind elsewhere, on another man, long ago, and ignore the pig on top of her.

  “No, Miguel. It won’t be any different. You’ll find no pleasure from me.” Her steady voice belied the panic she felt. Victoria looked away and stared at the wall next to her bed.

  She knew he’d been visiting at least one of the girls he kept at the ranch to cook, clean, and entertain his men. Sofia’s beautiful, long, dark hair, and her full figure captured Miguel’s attention whenever he saw her. She had always been Miguel’s woman when he lived at the ranch and Victoria’s arrival hadn’t changed the arrangement. Despite that, Sofia remained hostile. Victoria sympathized with her, but there was nothing anyone could do. She would leave if Miguel would allow it.