Free His Most Wanted by Sandra Jones Page B

married recently, and the match he’d made had changed the riverboat captain for the better.
    Newly determined to find his own happiness, he went to the small desk and took out a piece of paper and a pencil. Once he had the message written, he folded the paper in half and scribbled Hastings’s address on the back.
    Suddenly, the bedroom door at his back opened. He swiveled in his chair, half-expecting, half-hoping it would be Cora coming to say she’d changed her mind about his offer last night. At that thought, the erection he’d awoken with suddenly roared back to life.
    But instead of Cora, the young prostitute Andrea stepped inside, her face downcast, not noticing him. She shut the door and headed for her dresser across the room, slumping along quietly. Her hair was combed back in a neat bun, revealing the healing, yellow bruise.
    Her appearance washed away his earthly thoughts with feelings of sorrow for the girl. He cleared his throat.
    â€œOh!” She whirled around, her shocked eyes latching on to him.
    â€œMy apologies. It’s just me. The sheriff.” He stood, leaving the paper on the desk. “Miss Cora gave me use of your room last night.”
    She backed to the door. “I-I-I’m sorry. If I’d known I would’ve knocked.”
    â€œIt’s all right.” Her expression didn’t relax a fraction, and he cursed himself silently. He held out his hands in a gesture of peace. “Please. You’ve probably come for some clothing. I’m done here. I’ll leave.”
    Frowning, she nodded.
    As he went toward the door, she edged away from him, wringing her hands in front of her.
    Something kept him from leaving. The old Kit would’ve turned his back on the lady, wishing he hadn’t seen the injustice imposed upon her, but he wasn’t his old self anymore. What would Uncle Bart want him to do?
    â€œYour name is Andrea, isn’t it?”
    She nodded again. “Andrea Burns.”
    â€œWell, Miss Burns, as I’m now the sheriff, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the man who attacked you the night before last. Did you know his name?”
    She dropped her stare to her boots, hunching her shoulders.
    He felt certain that fear, rather than professional courtesy, kept her silent. “If you tell me who he was, I promise I’ll put him behind bars. I’ll arrest him and convince the judge to keep him in prison. On my word as a Wainwright.”
    Andrea glanced at the ceiling, eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears, then she met his gaze with resolve. “Name’s McGruder. He’s not from around here. He’s only passing through. Probably rode out of town today or yesterday.” Her bottom lip trembled.
    â€œDamn. I was afraid of that. I’ll check the hotel for him anyway. If he’s there, he’s as good as caught.”
    â€œThank you, Sheriff.” She brightened but didn’t smile. “Why you bein’ so kind to me?”
    He frowned. “That’s my job, isn’t it? Not to mention, I’m a gentleman.”
    This brought a tiny grin, and she chuckled wryly. “It weren’t the last sheriff’s job. At least he didn’t think so. But Miss Cora paid him to make it so.”
    The blood in his veins went icy. “Your employer gave Bill Sidlow money?”
    Andrea nodded. “She didn’t have no choice. He was rotten—just as bad as the thief you shot, taking our money for what he was hired to do. At least we didn’t have no troubles then. No thieves, no…” Her words drifted away as she turned her damaged cheek to her shoulder.
    His neck prickled with apprehension. “You know a lot about Miss Cora. Are the two of you close friends?”
    Andrea shook her head, smiling sadly. “None of us are really that close to her. Millie might come the closest, since she was raised here as a babe. But Miss Cora works on the bank ledgers and reads all the