Free Town of Two Women (9781101612125) by J.r. Roberts

bit her neck, it tasted different.
    â€œI have a bed in the back,” she said.
    â€œYou own this place?” he asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen take me there,” he said. He lifted her in his arms.

TWENTY-THREE
    The bed was small, the mattress thin, but it offered more comfort than a restaurant table.
    He made love to her once, then fucked her once. They were two different things, both glorious. Afterward, Clint and Amy lay together in her bed, their sweat cooling.
    â€œWhat are you gonna do now?” she asked.
    â€œI still have to find a safe place for Mary,” he said.
    â€œYou know they’ll try to kill her if you don’t get her out of town.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen why don’t you leave tonight?”
    â€œShe can’t ride,” he said. “She needs a couple of days.”
    â€œAnd you need a place to hide her, ’cause they know she’s at Doc’s.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œIs that what this was about?” she asked.
    â€œNo,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d be waiting for me . . . like this.”
    â€œThen what?”
    â€œI wouldn’t ask you,” he said.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI wouldn’t want to put you at risk,” he said. “Besides, there’s no room here.”
    She rolled over and looked at him.
    â€œI have a house, a small one, outside of town,” she said. “Nobody knows about it. It’s been closed up for a while. Take her there.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy not?” she asked. “I want to help. She got a raw deal, didn’t deserve to be run out of town.”
    â€œWhere were you when it happened?”
    â€œIn here,” she said, “serving steaks.”
    He sat up.
    â€œAre you going?”
    â€œI’ve got to get Mary away from Doc’s,” he said.
    â€œYour clothes are in the café,” she reminded him as he looked around.
    â€œOh, yeah,” he said. He realized his gun was there, too. Not a smart thing to do. He could have been dead by now.
    Stupid.
    â€œCome on,” she said, getting out of bed. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll show you the house.”
    *   *   *
    Harley Trace watched as Clint and Amy came out the front door of the café. They started to walk away, but then abruptly Clint Adams stopped, and started across the street.
    In a panic, Trace’s feet would not move.
    *   *   *
    â€œHold on a second,” Clint said to Amy. “I have to talk to someone.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œJust wait.”
    He stepped into the street to cross to the other side. The man he was approaching saw him, but seemed incapable of moving.
    When Clint reached him, the man looked as if he was going to cry, or faint.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Clint asked.
    â€œHa-Ha-Harley T-Trace.”
    â€œYou’ve been watching me since I got to town, Harley,” Clint said. “Why?”
    â€œI—I—I was told to.”
    â€œBy who? Eric Locksley?”
    â€œOh, no, sir,” Trace said. “I’m, uh, workin’ for the sheriff.”
    â€œAnd what does he want you to do?” Clint asked.
    â€œJ-Just keep an eye o-on you.”
    â€œAnd the girl?”
    â€œY-Yeah.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “I think you’re done for the day, Harley.”
    â€œUm, the sheriff said—”
    â€œNever mind what the sheriff said,” Clint cut him off. “You’re done.”
    â€œB-But w-what—”
    Trace had all the indications of being an alcoholic. Clint took some money from his pocket.
    â€œGo and get yourself a drink or two,” Clint said, putting the coins in Harley’s pocket. “Then, in a little while, come to the doc’s. I’ll be back there again.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œThe sheriff never has to know,” Clint said. “Go. Otherwise I’m going