Free Her Montana Man by Cheryl St.john Page B

he put his other arm around her waist.
    Due to his sitting position on the railing, his face was lower than hers by a few inches. With his warm
    palm flattened against her back, he drew her even closer, releasing her hand so he could envelop her in
    his warmth and strength. She didn’t resist, didn’t even want to. At the feel of his strong arms around her,
    silken pearls of fire rolled along her nerve endings and spread throughout her body. The liberating
    sensation was like a promise she’d been waiting to fulfill.
    She had no reason on earth to deny herself this pleasure, nothing more to lose, so she met his kiss,
    threading her fingers into his soft cool hair at the same time she tasted his lips.
    She savored the warmth of his mouth, loved the feel of his hands on her waist, sliding to her hips, as he
    took control of the kiss and stood to tuck her tightly against his length. Eliza was starving for affection, for
    attention…for someone to recognize and want her for who she was. Her neediness almost embarrassed
    her, but she didn’t care. This was her moment. Her tiny dash at satisfaction, and she meant to grab it.
    A shot rang through the air. A thud sounded and Jonas’s body jerked at the same time he gasped
    against her mouth. In the next instant as wood splintered overhead, he grabbed her and pushed her to the
    porch floor, lying with his hard body covering her. Her heart pounded so loud she could barely hear his
    breathing.
    He leaned to one side, unpinning her. “Crawl to the door and get inside.”
    The night was eerily silent. Nothing moved or rustled. She wanted to obey, but couldn’t make herself
    budge.
    Behind them, the wooden screen covering the parlor window creaked open a few inches and a dark
    object fell to the porch floor with a thud.
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    Jonas inched backward, grabbed the leather holster with his left hand and drew out a long revolver.
    “Inside now, ” he said to her.
    In the moonlight, a dark patch glistened high on the white sleeve of his shirt on his right side.
    “You’re hurt.”
    “Can’t feel it yet,” he told her. “Now get in. Keep everyone away from the windows.”
    Crawling was awkward until she hiked her nightdress and wrapper above her knees. He remained
    beside her, reaching for the door handle and closing her safely inside.
    Jonas peered around the pillar. The post wasn’t much cover, but the lack of bright moonlight aided him
    in staying in the shadows. He waited several minutes, but couldn’t make out anything unusual in the gray
    shapes along the street. The shot had most likely come from between buildings on the other side.
    He leaped over the porch railing on the west and crouched as he ran between the hotel and the dry
    goods store to the back alley. The store was on the corner of the block. Because of the cover, the
    shooter would expect him to take the alley eastward and then get to the other side somewhere near the
    saloon.
    Instead, he crossed the street to the west and ran the entire length of the alley to come out farther down.
    He approached the boardwalk in a crouch, wondering as the numbness left his good arm by increments,
    if he’d be able to hit anything.
    At some point he still had to get across Main, so he made a run for it, then worked his way behind the
    south-side buildings.
    “Who’s out there?”
    Jonas recognized Yale Baxter, who lived above his hardware store on the corner. Yale was wearing his
    union suit and carrying a Winchester. Jonas answered in a low voice. “Jonas. Somebody was shooting at
    the hotel.”
    “Anybody hurt?”
    “Got a slug in my shoulder that’s startin’ to hurt like the very devil.”
    Across the street beside the tea shop loomed two more residents carrying guns. “Yale? Jonas, that you?
    Jonas called a low reply. George Atwell and Marshal Haglar crossed the street, George wearing
    trousers with suspenders over his bare shoulders and