Free Desperate Hearts by Alexis Harrington

watching the sun for reference,
was thoroughly confused. Traveling fast, they recrossed their own
tracks through rocky canyons and traversed streambeds; he even made
her trade mounts with him a couple of times to alter the hoof
prints the horses made. Once or twice, she suspected that they
might be lost, but a glance at his set face quelled her doubts. He
knew exactly what he was doing.
    The weather, though, was not obliging.
Clearing briefly, it finally settled into a steady gray downpour,
and Kyla lost her point of reference. As the hours passed, she
tried hard to maintain the tough hardiness that Jace had come to
expect. But she was cold and miserable, and by afternoon, when he
finally pointed them toward Misfortune, her energy started to drain
away. Yet she dared not let it show—she couldn’t let anything get
in the way of traveling back to Blakely.
    To stay alert—and on her horse—she forced
herself to think about her ultimate intent: to see Tom Hardesty
dead. Jace Rankin was her means to that end. She had to make him
understand the urgent necessity of her goal. She drew up alongside
him.
    “ How long do you think
we’ll need to be in Misfortune?” she asked.
    “ As long as it takes to
finish my business.” His tone reminded her that he did not like
being questioned.
    Her brows locked at his flip answer. “Well,
how long will that be? I want that damned Hardesty off my
property.”
    He turned to regard her, and despite her
weariness once again she studied his good looks. They couldn’t be
considered classic—his eyes were far too intense. And the jaded
cynicism lurking in their blue depths made him seem unapproachable.
She could have kicked herself for even noticing, but his
handsomeness was fascinating, like a dark star that glinted in the
night sky.
    “ You’re sure in a hurry to
get shot at again. I’m not,” he went on. “Besides, Hardesty doesn’t
sound like he’s going anyplace. He’ll be in Blakely when we get
there.”
    His cavalier attitude clashed with her
growing headache. “I just want to settle this. Jail isn’t bad
enough for what he did.” She stopped just short of saying she
wanted to see Hardesty dead.
    “ Look—we’re going to do it
my way or not at all. I need to make certain we’ve lost his hired
guns. I don’t want to be caught between them and the
vigilantes.”
    Kyla understood the strategy, but only
vaguely. Pain and her hate blurred the details. “Didn’t anyone ever
make you mad enough that you just wanted to get even?”
    He kept his eyes on the rain-shortened
horizon and his jaw tightened. “Once.”
    Once. Jace gripped his reins. Yeah, it had
happened to him. A cold, dark vengeance had blotted out every other
thought he’d had, and his focus narrowed down to one purpose—to
exact revenge. He’d tracked his best friend all over the territory,
and he would have shot him without thinking twice about it. At
least not until it was too late. When Travis had convinced him of
his innocence, he had continued with single-minded determination
until he found Sawyer Clark and killed him.
    And so what? His sister Celia was still
dead. Avenging her hadn’t changed that. He was simply left with
that same bitter emptiness he’d felt since the afternoon in Silver
City. He wished to God he could shake it.
    But this woman, with her spirit and courage,
who seemed to be more wild mare than human female, did not know
what lay in store for her. And maybe she should.
    “ I’m not in the habit of
giving advice,” he said. “People usually do what they want, anyway.
But . . . whatever grudge you bear against Hardesty, nothing will
be different, not if he sits in jail till kingdom come. Not even if
I were to kill him. It wouldn’t bring back Hank.” He gestured at
her head. “Your hair wouldn’t grow out overnight.”
    A frown creased Kyla’s pale face and she
leaned forward in her saddle, allowing the soft roundness of her
bosom to press against her shirt. From this angle,