Free Revenge and the Wild by Michelle Modesto Page A

pushed past Nigel and went into the house. There was a slight thrill seeing his anger, but there was guilt too. She didn’t like seeing him upset.
    “What’s the meaning of all this noise?” Nigel demanded. His eyes locked onto Westie’s, lips pressed together. “Oh, I see.” Westie looked at the ground, shame heating her cheeks. She tried to focus on a single rock in front of her to keep from tipping over. “Get to bed,” he said with a disappointed sag in his voice. “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”
    She was more than happy to oblige.

Nine
    Despite a vicious hangover, Westie woke early the next morning. She wanted to be out of the house before Nigel woke up so she wouldn’t have to talk about the Fairfields.
    She couldn’t blame him for not believing they were cannibals. Her memories were not always reliable. Once, when she’d first gone out looking for the killers of her family, there’d been a woman slain and eaten by cannibals in the valley where Westie had gone hunting. She had seen a man lingering in the town nearby who’d had the same beard, build, and deep-set menacing eyes as the man who’d cut off her arm. Taking him off his guard by playing the part of damsel in distress, she’d managed to knock him out and string him up by his feet.
    Though no other authorities believed there were cannibals in the valley, Westie had managed to convince Nigel and the sheriff both that there were, and that the man in her possession was one of them.But just as the man was about to be hanged for his crime, his brother came to town with proof that the accused man had just flown in from New York on an airship days before and couldn’t have been the one who’d killed and eaten the young woman the week before.
    It had been a great scandal and embarrassment. The only thing that kept her from sitting in the sheriff’s cells for her wrongful accusation was Nigel’s good word that she’d never pull a stunt like that again—and yet she would have yesterday if Costin hadn’t been there to stop her.
    Because of past follies, there was no way anyone would believe her based on her word. To get the sheriff on board, she needed Nigel’s backing, and for that, she needed proof. Only way she knew to get it was to go back to the scene of her nightmares.
    She left the note she’d written for Nigel on the desk in his study and went out to the barn, stumbling when she saw Alistair waiting for her.
    Bena was beside him, brushing her horse. She gave Westie a questioning look that Westie replied to with a shrug.
    “What are you doing out here?” Westie asked Alistair.
    There was a long pause as they watched each other. Alistair was an athlete at the staring game. “Curious why you’re sneaking around.” He didn’t look angry like he had the night before.
    “You’re spying on me?”
    There were dark circles beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept. “Do you really think that after what happened at the docks I would let you out of my sight?”
    He left out the part about her time at the saloon, but she wasn’t going to remind him.
    Westie slung her saddlebag over Henry’s rump. She didn’t know what to do. Alistair was a hitch in her plans.
    “You haven’t cared about anything concerning me for the last three years—why start now?”
    “I’ve always cared about you.” His mask whirred and his face reddened.
    Westie fought the smile rising up. It was the first time he’d ever admitted anything of the sort, but it was difficult to believe after all the time he’d spent avoiding her.
    Alistair cleared his throat—though it sounded more like the clank of metal bits pinging off one another—and continued, “You’ve always been independent and competent for the most part, but after showing up at the house in the middle of the night, drunk and kissing vampires, no less, I’m not so sure anymore. Clearly you need some assistance with your decision making.”
    There it was.
    “If I didn’t know better,