His most reliable supplier sitting across the desk, Beaumont scowled, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He knew what Matthew was waiting for, information on the man who’d cut Lottie. Before he might get to business, there was a pause, the strike of a match, and a dense cloud of tobacco smoke. “Listen, Matthew. As I hear it, there’s a juke joint outside Charleston - place called Friendly’s - where a man with a scar down his cheek has been asking around for work.” Beaumont settled his elbows on the table, cocking a brow. “A friend of a friend thought you might want to make an appearance.”

Charleston wasn’t so far from home, a few hours out of the way at most – leaving that man awful close to Charlotte. Business done, Matthew stood ready to get the hell out of Chicago and straight down to Friendly’s.

“One more thing, Matthew,” Beaumont tapped his finger on the table. “I’d go tonight, if you get my drift.”

Oh, he got it. Not to say that Matthew didn’t have trouble trusting a man like Radcliffe. “This friend of a friend, who is he?”

Radcliffe grinned, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The whiskey - if it could even be called whisky - was warm, sliding slippery-like down Charlie’s gullet. It was her second time wasting a night in the hind legs of West Virginia’s capital city, wandering shit holes a man like Roy Beachum might frequent. The turn of events, her sitting there in the shadows, was as cliché as it was routine.

Friendly’s was just charming, from the bloodstains on the floor to the reek of vomit in the corners. Over the years she’d been in a million bars just like it, felt at home sitting back against the wall, observing.

All signs had pointed to Charleston, a city almost large enough a wounded man like Roy might disappear. But with his friends dead, he’d be looking for new cronies. Friendly’s was just the place for making contacts, boasting a rough crowd and a bad reputation.

Beachum was in the area, and frankly, the chase and the subterfuge needed to placate Matthew was getting grating. Things needed to be wrapped up, Charlie aware she’d have to leave Charleston soon if she was going to beat Matthew home from Chicago.

Six hours and still no Roy…

From under a dirty brim, sapphire eyes measured each man who came through the door. She listened for whispers, gossip, bawdy stories, that same sour whiskey clutched in her fist.

And still nothing.

But Friendly’s was the key, she knew it. She just had to be patient - and maybe prepare to duck - as it looked like a brawl was ready to break out. Shouting got louder, two drunks beginning to posture just as the door opened. A wiry nobody with a scar traipsed in, far too cocky for a man about to enjoy an unmarked grave.

Wise enough not to grin outright, Charlie settled for a nasty smirk. She could’ve raised her glass to him, watching him limp towards the flashier whores. In fact, she couldn’t have asked for better. The cover of an impending fight would make dragging the man out go unnoticed, and Roy was even cornering himself by offering cash to a hooker who would take him someplace private upstairs. Everything would get wrapped up right on time for her to hop a train and be back at Devil’s Hollow in time for breakfast.

Roy didn’t seem too picky on choice of company, choosing the first he clamped eyes on. Her prey marched upstairs, arm in arm with a woman sporting flaming red hair. Pushing away from the wall, Charlie walked to another lady of the evening, prepared to make the lucky girl a decent proposition. She needed access upstairs, and the girl in her dirty yellow dress would make a couple easy bucks without having to do a damn thing. Once upstairs, she’d hogtie Roy, beat some answers out of him, and drag him off with no one the wiser.

It was perfect. Or it would have been had the door not opened again, had two familiar men not sauntered right into Friendly’s reeking of trouble. Cursing the foulest language she knew, Charlie pulled down her brim and decided on the direct approach - aka: directly avoiding a glowering Matthew and angry looking Nathaniel.

Charlie shoved cash at the whore, took her arm and dragged the woman towards the stairs before either man might clamp eyes on her. She knew how to be quick, how to get in and out, and if she played her cards right, the Emerson brothers would never know Roy, or she, had been there.

All hell broke loose behind her the moment her boot hit the first step. The brawl began. It didn’t matter which drunken redneck swung first, it didn’t matter why, but it gave her pause. Bar brawls could get downright nasty. Even knowing the Emersons were solid fighters, Charlie could not help but look over her shoulder just to make sure they were alright.

Her boys were back to back, right by the bar, and heavily caught up in the midst the scuffle. Matthew took a hook to the jaw, his assailant knocked out cold, shattered nose changing the fool’s face forever. Her smirk was inevitable; Matthew was a damn fine boxer. And where Matthew was formidable, Nathaniel was downright scary.

They’d be fine.

Shaking her head, preparing to turn back up the stairs, Charlie thanked god she’d hesitated. One last glance and she found Eli shoving through the door. The swing of the wood caught a stranger, and not two seconds later a man the size of a mountain took a swing at the overeager kid in retaliation. Clocked in the back of the skull, Eli fell, the bottle used to peg him shattering in a rain of green glass.

The giant who hit him held up the broken stump, laughed at the look of it, and went in for the kill. But Charlie was already there. The second she’d seen the boy, she’d rushed the crowd, picking up a broken table leg on the way. Heart in her throat, she roared, cracking the makeshift bat against the skull of a stranger who threatened one of hers. The goliath fell, so still Charlie was certain she’d killed him.

But there wasn’t any time to give two shits. Reaching down to sharply yank one befuddled Eli off the floor, Charlie yelled, “Get on your feet, Eli! Stay behind me!”

The kid couldn’t have looked more shocked to see her spin and swing at the next man coming their way. She was a devil with that bat, knocking teeth out without mercy, jabbing guts until men pitched forward to find her knee catch their chins.

In the middle of the madness, after a spray of blood shot from the face of the next chump foolish enough to charge her, Charlie unintentionally locked eyes with her future husband. She had no clue how he did it, but Matthew crossed through the melee, shoving men aside like a maniac once he’d seen just who had saved his cousin. Once close, he made a grab for her, hefting her like a sack of flour over his shoulder. Storming out, Nathaniel dragged a bleeding Eli in tow.

The sound of the fight diminished, cold air making her sweat steam. “Goddamn it, Matthew! Put me down!”

He did just that once they were clear of the saloon, dropping Charlie so he might back her against his truck. Grey eyes became molten steel. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

Throwing the chair leg in a fit of temper, Charlie hissed, “Roy Beachum is upstairs fucking a redhead as we speak. And instead of hog tying the bastard before he can run off, I saved Eli from a goddamn giant looking for blood.”

Nathaniel didn’t wait for orders. Hearing what she’d said, he charged back inside to fetch Roy before the goon might slither off.

The way Matthew was breathing, chest rising and falling, it was clear he was beyond furious. “How did you even know he was here?”

“How the fuck do you think I knew? I’ve been tracking him since I got out of the hospital. The better question is how the hell did you know?” Then it hit her. Radcliffe had squealed. “I’m going to fucking kill Beau…”

Nostrils flared, Matthew grit his teeth and growled like a dog.

One look at him and Charlie lost it. “I was honest about what I am, so stop looking at me like that. You have no right to be angry.”

“You listen here, Charlotte. Listen good.” He was fuming, grey eyes murderous as he gripped her arm. “This will never happen again, you hear me? Sneaking around like you are is gonna get you hurt.”

“Hunting men is what I do best… I’ll do as I please!”

“It ain’t your place no more,” he thundered, about ready to tie her up and drag her off. Hell, he’d even gag her if he had to. “If I ever find you out looking for some sack of shit criminal, god help you woman. No table leg is going to save you from the hell I will bring down upon you.”

Her hands came to his chest, pushing roughly. “And just what hell might that be?”

Matthew got a good grip on the slippery woman, using his mass to hold her still. Pinning her, watching her persist to struggle, to fight as if she were stronger, made the point for him. Charlie continued to lose until she was panting, hair disheveled… caught like a cornered animal.

When he had her still, Matthew spoke the hard truth. “You think you’re so tough, so goddamn dangerous? Guess what, little Blackbird,” he tugged her wrist, forcing her to see the red scar. “You do miss, and you do bleed.”

Desperation hitched her voice. “And so do you, Matthew. Don’t you get it? Roy was only a hired thug. Someone is coming after you, and I aim to find out who.”

He grimaced in an attempt to control his fury. “I don’t need your help.”

Poking his chest, she railed, “Open your eyes! You would’ve never found him if not for me. Who do you think ran Roy’s name past Beau? I called him this morning looking to see if the jackass knew who the fucker worked with! And that son of a bitch dragged you in where you don’t belong. Walkin in there all puffed up and dangerous… If Roy had laid eyes on you, he would’ve taken one look and run. Then I would have to find him all over again!”

Biting down the retort cooking on his tongue, Matthew looked away. It was long seconds before he could get past the anger and say what he was feeling. “I thought you were dead. Ain’t never felt so scared like I did the moment I saw you half-naked, crumpled in a pool of blood. You were white as a ghost, Charlotte.”

All the wind went out of her sails. “Oh, Matthew, I’m not gonna die on you.”

One hand came to her face, Matthew ignoring the swelling in his knuckles so he might wipe blood splatter off her cheek. “This ain’t the life I want for you. It ain’t the life you want for yourself. It’s time for you to set it aside and let the menfolk do their duty.”

Pressing against the heat of his palm, Charlie closed her eyes, exasperated that it had to be spelled out. “You can’t just expect me to sit back, to wait and wonder. Not when I can find out what’s going on.”

“I’m going to handle the man that hurt what’s mine.” His voice came considerably softer. “I am, not you.” He swallowed, leaning so close their noses almost touched. “Leave it be, Charlotte.”

The thought of him out there alone made her blood run cold. She was begging him, pleading, “I know these men. Let me stand at your side… Together we—”

He put his forehead to hers, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was still angry, no doubt about that, but she had some magic that cooled the temper. “You can stand by my side in every other way… but not in this. Darlin, I love you too much to allow it.”

It was the one thing he might say that would curb her. Charlie went quiet. Frowning, she pushed off from the truck, shoving him away to kick up a cloud of dirt and scream out her frustration. When the shriek was over, unwilling to give her acquiescence vocally, Charlie panted and offered one sharp nod. It didn’t matter, Matthew knew what she meant. He could see the monumental struggle it was for her to step away from the hunt.

The chase was over anyway. Nathaniel had returned, the crumpled body of Roy Beachum dumped at his feet.

Bitter, Charlie crossed the distance and gave Roy one hard kick in the ribs. “That’s for cutting my arm, prick!”

Ignoring the sputtering man whining at her feet, sapphire eyes darted up to look dead on at Matthew. “If something happens to you, there will be no mercy for the men I go after. You understand me?”

Matthew nodded, accepting her surrender, one with caveats should he fail - the look in her eyes made that perfectly clear.

With the back of Eli’s head nothing but mush, Charlie was put in charge of getting him home. Matthew got her ass on the next train leaving Charleston for Monroe, handing his woman all the cash he’d collected from the last transaction with Radcliffe - as if to show he trusted her, saying silently not to make the same mistake twice.

For some reason it made her sad, and she couldn’t quite meet his eye. The ride back she fumed. She was furious at Beaumont, angry with Matthew for denying her, at Nathaniel for glaring… and stupid Eli for blowing her cover in the first place.

When the truck had not returned to Devil’s Hollow by midday, Charlie took the sack of cash, invaded Matthew’s office, and opened his ledgers. Pouring over his books, she did the same job she’d done for Radcliffe all those years ago.

After dark, Matthew cleared his throat from the door, Charlie looking up, startled.

Dry, to the point, she asked, “Who sent him?”

Closing the office door behind him, Matthew glanced down at the ledger she’d been marking. “He didn’t know. You killed the ringleader. Roy was just hired muscle.”

Charlie pursed her lips. Even the muscle tended to know things – small things that might add up to a lot. “How much was he offered in pay?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

She let out a low whistle. “Sounds a bit too good to be true, don’t you think? Six men, five hundred a piece, someone’s got deep pockets and was wise enough to hire a guy to pick the locks and sneak in. They respect your reputation.” Charlie looked to the ceiling as she mulled it over. After a quick breath, she looked him dead in the eye. “What were they told to do with you? Rough you up? Quick death? Torture?”

Matthew grunted, “Torture.”

Laughing just a little, Charlie snorted, “What kind, Matthew?”

He didn’t move or offer an answer.

“The question is important. Certain men have trademarks.”

“Charlotte,” the words seemed hard for him, “you can’t stay here alone when we’re gone. I know you want to, but you can’t.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Grey eyes turned dark. “They were going to rape you while I watched. They knew you’d be here alone. That’s why they snuck in.”

Charlotte sucked her lower lip between her teeth, nodding. She’d figured as much. “Did they know about me before they came down to buy those 60 gallons?”

Matthew looked to be at a loss. “Roy didn’t know.”

Hating that her blood turned cold, Charlie asked, “Is he still alive?”

“If he is, he won’t be much longer.” After cutting off a few key body parts, Matthew and Nathaniel had left Roy to bleed out just as he’d left her.

She looked to the side in thought. “You know they’ll come after you again.”

His scowl was somewhat rueful, the man clearly worn out. “Why you lookin at my accounts?”

Grumbling, not at all happy with how little Matthew had learned, Charlie turned her attention to the figures. “I kept the books for Beaumont. Figured I’d enter the cash you shoved at me last night to help.” Looking to lighten the mood she peeked at him from the corner of her eye and smirked. “Found a few errors… and you’ll need to add a thing or two. With the available income generated from my properties up north, my logging stock, not to mention petty cash I have hidden all over creation, you’ll need to add my honest money to your dirty.”

She could tell at once he didn’t like the idea of absorbing her cash. So when he opened his mouth and made a deadpan joke, her jaw dropped. “It’s a federal offense to use a false identity, spitfire. Ain’t no penny of your money honest.”

And like that they laughed.

It felt good to smile, Charlie a little less angry. “I suppose you’re right. Either way, if you’re fool enough to marry me, and meant what you said about me standing by your side, then you have to take my money and merge it with yours.”

He was almost amused, and just a hairsbreadth from annoyed. “This you punishing me for last night?”

She looked up at him from under her brows. “What man finds the addition of eight thousand dollars and a monthly income just shy of two hundred bucks a punishment? You should be kissing me for all my careful saving and investing.”

“You wantin me to kiss you now, hmmm?” He was gruff, running his hand over his scruff. Matthew’s appraisal was thorough, a little light coming back to his eyes. “In three weeks we’re gettin hitched… I’ll kiss you then.”

With those parting words, he turned and left.

Disappointed, Charlie realized he was punishing her. Not for peeking at his ledgers or mouthing off… but for sneaking around behind his back to hunt Roy. Well, two could play that game. Since there was to be no kissing, that night she joked it was fitting for her to sleep alone. She had not expected him to, but Matthew agreed. All night Charlie lay there, hating the feeling of a cold bed, Gus was curled up next to her, not quite comfort enough.

When the sun rose and Matthew didn’t complain about his cot in the hall or make a move to reclaim his place in the bedroom, her smugness faded. Charlie began to worry. Another night separated passed, then another, and worry turned to dread.

Though he was cordial, Matthew wouldn’t touch her. He didn’t much speak to her.

From the way he was acting, Charlie began to suspect Matthew no longer wanted her.

Three days later Charlie rose early, finding Matthew already up and working in his office downstairs. There was no good morning kiss, no smile. Charlie couldn’t take it. A long walk to the homestead of Sheriff Cormac settled her somewhat. Ruth was expecting her, waiting with a quick smile and a spare apron.

“Eli snuck on by yesterday,” Ruth whispered as she kneaded dough. “Had a gash clear across the back of his head.”

“Yeah, I stitched him up,” Charlie murmured, unthinking as she fretted over waking up alone… again.

The slender girl at her side froze. “What do you mean you stitched him up?”

Flushing from the narrowed, almost inhospitable gaze of her friend, Charlie admitted, “He got bashed in the head. I did the stitchin a few days ago while his cousins were away.”

“Hmmmm.” Small hands went back to working the dough. “Considering the fact that you’re murdering that dough with your hands and surly as a bear, perhaps you want to explain yourself… and just why my Eli needed to have his scalp sewn back together.”

Jaw tight, Charlie said, “I’m at an impasse with Matthew. And, as for Eli, looks like that boy needs to learn when to duck.”

Ruth suddenly concerned, brushed Eli’s impetuousness aside. “He ain’t getting cold feet is he?”

What if he was? What if Matthew was so mad over her hunting down Roy that he’d changed his feelings?

Charlie’s eyes grew wet as she thought over the probability. Worry heavy in her voice she blurted, “I… I don’t know. It’s just that he refuses to kiss me until the wedding.”

Ruth looked a bit confused. “Well, isn’t that kinda romantic?”

Taking her hands from the dough, Charlie wiped her forehead. “Considering how much he liked to kiss me before… and how mad he’s been, I’m not sure.”

“Why would he be mad?”

A gusty breath, and Charlie felt her share of the anger rumble deep down. “We had a disagreement on my role as his wife. Matthew dislikes my...,” she paused, looking for the right phrasing, “independent nature.”

“Well, far as I can tell he likes you just fine. Whole town been gossipin about your upcoming nuptials,” Ruth teased, trying to cheer her. “You’re just having last minute weddin jitters. And keep in mind, that carpenter Mr. Emerson hired is from my church. I heard him tell daddy that your mister commissioned him to build some real fine things, just to please you. That sound like a man who is second guessing his devotion?”

Her friend’s gentle words loosened Charlie’s knots. Charlie took a breath and offered a timid smile. “You’re right… I’m just full of nonsense.”

An impish smirk grew on Ruth’s lips. “But I can understand your frustration. If Eli stopped kissin me, it sure would put me in a mood too.”

It was Charlie’s turn to poke fun. “From the look on your face, Miss Ruth, I have a feeling he’s been doing a lot more than kissin on you.”

The girl blushed scarlet. Yup, Eli had finally got a hand up her skirt.