Tracker's Sin (Hell's Eight, 4) - Softcover

Buch 4 von 8: Hell's Eight

McCarty, Sarah

 
9780373776535: Tracker's Sin (Hell's Eight, 4)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0373776535 ISBN 13: 9780373776535
Verlag: HQN, 2011

Inhaltsangabe

Before his trade became his name, "Tracker" Ochoa was a scrawny mestizo runaway. Now as fearsome as he once was frightened, he's joined the notorious Hell's Eight…and they have a job for him.

He must rescue kidnapped heiress Ari Blake and deliver her safely to the Hell's Eight compound—by any means necessary. Turns out that includes marrying her, if he means to escort her and her infant daughter across the Texas territory. Tracker hadn't bargained on a wife—especially such a fair, blue-eyed beauty. But the pleasures of the marriage bed more than make up for the surprise.

Tracker's well-muscled body and dark, dangerous eyes are far more exciting than any of Ari's former debutante dreams. In the light of day, though, his deep scars and brooding intensity terrify her. But with the frontier against them and mercenary bandits at their heels, her fearsome husband may be the only protection she's got.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Before becoming a full-time writer, Sarah McCarty traveled extensively. She would bring a pencil and paper with her to sketch out her stories and, in the process, discovered the joy of writing. Today, Sarah is the New York Times bestselling author of more than a dozen novels, including the award-winning Hell’s Eight series, and is best known for her historical and paranormal romance novels. You can contact Sarah through her website at www.SarahMcCarty.net.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

April 5, 1858

Dear Ari,

I don't know how to start this letter, except to say thank God you're alive.

So much has happened in the last year. Not all of it good, but some of it so special, there aren't words to describe it. I'm married. Happily so, to a man of whom Papa would never have approved. He doesn't have money, doesn't have social position, and doesn't care a fig about mine, but he is everything I never dreamed big enough to desire when we used to sit under the apple tree imagining the perfect husband. A heart that knows no limits, a sense of honor that can't be compromised, and a love for me so rich, I'll never be poor. He's Hell's Eight, and if you're still living in the Texas territory when this letter finds you, you know what that means. If not, you're in for a treat. The men of Hell's Eight are a breed apart. A standard on which to build legends, for all they'll scoff at you if you tell them so.

My husband's name is Caine Allen, and he's the one insisting I write this letter. He believes in family and in my intuition, and though everyone says you're dead, he says my gut feeling is good enough for him, and he's promised finding you will be Hell's Eight's number one priority. He can be high-handed at times, but in the best ways.

I'm sorry I can't introduce you to the man handing you this letter, but you see, I've made seven copies and entrusted them to seven different men: Tucker, Sam, Tracker, Shadow, Luke, Caden and Ace. Like my husband, they're Hell's Eight and I'm asking you to put yourself in their care because each one of them has made a promise to me, one they've sworn to uphold.

They've promised to bring you home, Ari. Home to Hell's Eight, where there's no past, no recriminations, no judgment, just peace and a place where you can breathe easily. After what we've been through, I know it sounds like a preacher's description of heaven, elusive and unreal. But I promise you there is a way out of hell and if you haven't already found it, I'll help you.

Trust no one but them, Ari, because Father's solicitor, Harold Amboy, is the one who arranged for us to be ambushed initially, and he has men hunting for you, too. He intends to control Father's money through one of us. But you can trust any of these men. Absolutely and completely, with everything you hold dear.

I'm crying as I write this. I can't imagine what you've been through. I can't forget how we parted. My nightmares, which must have been your reality. The sense of helplessness as I stare at the night sky, wondering if you can see the same stars, wondering if you're healthy, happy, and most of all safe.

Do you remember the game we used to play as children when things didn't go our way? How we'd find a patch of daisies dappled in sunlight, link our hands in our special way and then just spin until we didn't care about anything else? I so want to see you again, Ari, find a patch of daisies, grab hands and spin until laughter takes over and all the bad falls away. Though it's irrational, because I have no idea how long it will take the men to find youdays, months, yearsI have to say this.

Hurry home, Ari. I've planted a patch of daisies and it's waiting.

"So you're going after her?"

Tracker nodded in response to his twin brother's question, then yanked the square knot tight on the rawhide, securing his bedroll to the back of the saddle. Desi's letter to Ari rustled in his pocket, a subtle prod.

Tin rattled against tin as Shadow stuffed his plate and cup into his saddlebags. "We've got a better lead," he said, pointing out the obvious for the second time since they'd set up camp the night before. "The Saransens down Cavato way actually have a blond woman confirmed, living in town."

Tracker looked at Shadow. It was like gazing in the mirror. His twin had the same height, same broad shoulders, the same sharp planes to his face that lent a cruel edge to his expression. The latter came from their father. The only softness in his face was that full mouth, a gift from their Mexican mother. The same deep brown eyes with the cynical edge that came from knowing everything had a price.

Tracker and Shadow had learned young how to blend into the world around them so they'd be invisible to the "marks" their father wanted them to rob. A pity they'd never been able to hide from him. Tracker jerked the knot again, remembering the spew of bile that had rained down in insults and beatings if their father's standards weren't met.

As the older brother by twenty minutes, he'd tried his whole life to protect Shadow from the harshness of their world. He hadn't been successful. Shadow had suffered at the hands of their father. He'd suffered at the hands of the Mexican army that had wiped out their town when they were just boys. He'd suffered in the days after the massacre as he and the seven other orphaned boys had almost starved to death, searching for a place to belong. In the end, they'd made their home together, found acceptance in each other. And in the years since, those eight boys had grown into the most feared men of the Texas plains. Tracker and Shadow had family in Hell's Eight, but any respect they garnered outside the confines of Hell's Eight land they'd earned with their blood. In this country, the only respect a man held was that which he took. And he and Shadow had taken more than their fair share. "Deep thoughts, brother?"

Tracker shook off the melancholy and smiled as he slid his rifle into the scabbard. "I was thinking that Caine would be pleased with where Hell's Eight has landed."

Caine was the leader of the group that those eight starving boys had become. He'd taken them from outlaws to lawmen, and Caine's wife was the reason Tracker was on the hunt now.

"He always said we'd get strong first and then we'd get even, and damned if he didn't make that come true."

"Hard to believe we're now the ones people call on when they have trouble." Tracker still wasn't comfortable with that. He'd rather stay in the background with no ties, no expectations, handling what needed to be handled calmly and efficiently, without any notoriety.

Shadow chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, especially since we were so good at being trouble."

They had been that. Tracker had never felt so free as in those early years when they'd ridden outside the law, taking justice into their own hands, slipping in and out of the shadows, doing what needed to be done with an efficiency that would have pleased his father. But things had a way of changing, and now Hell's Eight was the law, bound somewhat by the rules of society. He grimaced. Hell, they'd gotten so damn respectable that it chafed. The bounty they'd just settled being a case in point.

He pictured again the smarmy smirk of John Kettle as he stood before the judge, hearing his not guilty verdict. The man was as guilty as sin. Tracker and Shadow had buried the bodies of the woman and child he'd killed, before they'd tracked him down. In the old days they would have just killed the son of a bitch in a quick dispensation of justice. Instead, they'd followed the law and brought him to the county seat. But while the woman and little girl were still dead, their killer was walking free, because justice had caved beneath the money and influence of John Kettle's family.

Tracker spat. "Things are changing, brother."

Shadow grunted, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "We should have just gut shot the bastard."

"Next time we will." He wasn't a man naturally given to playing by the rules, especially when they weren't working. Things might be changing, but he wasn't. He liked things clean and neat, with no messy loose ends. John Kettle was a loose end, and sooner or...

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Verlag
HQN
Erscheinungsdatum
2011
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0373776535
ISBN 13 
9780373776535
Einband
Taschenbuch
Auflage
1
Anzahl der Seiten
352
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
HarperCollins Publishers Ireland
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