Carol Finch Read Free Page A

his masculine strength. He would make a formidable enemy, she decided.
    Something about the man fascinated her, but she couldn’t pinpoint the reason for her unexpected reaction. First off, he probably didn’t care if he captured her, dead or alive. As long as he collected the price on her head.
    “Savanna Cantrell?”
    His deep resonant voice rolled toward her, sending a wave of unfamiliar sensations down her spine. “Who wants to know?” she questioned his question.
    “Fletcher Hawk.” His pistol was still trained on her. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
    Despite the several days’ growth of beard that covered his face, she unwillingly responded when he smiled. Immediately she redoubled her defenses and took a step backward. He was trying to be pleasant so he could get the drop on her. But she wasn’t falling into his trap. He was going to fall into hers.
    “I’m not Savanna. I’m her decoy,” she lied through her teeth. “I know where my friend is, though. Savvy is paying me to lead mercenaries like you on a merry chase.”
    He took what might’ve been mistaken as a casual step forward to counter each step she retreated, but she knew what he was doing. Savanna made double damn certain that she didn’t glance down to gauge his distance from her concealed trap. If he continued on his present path, she’d have him snared.
    “Liar,” he said almost pleasantly. “I was given a description of the fugitive. You fit the bill, Savanna. Your Indian buckskin dress, moccasins and long dark braids are a nice touch, though. But you’re white, even if you have a deeptan and you’re trying to disguise your features by smearing mud and soot on your hands and face.”
    “You’re mistaken, Mr. Hawk.”
    “No, I’m not. You don’t move like an Indian. I should know. I’m half Apache, Paleface.”
    “Oh? Which half?” Impudently she looked him up and down.
    “The half that counts,” he replied, easing a step closer. “I’m Apache at heart.”
    “With a devil’s soul?” she inquired.
    He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever it takes to get the job done.” He flashed another disarming smile. “But ordinarily I’m one of the nicest men you’ll ever meet.”
    Savanna smirked at that. She was offended by his remark that she couldn’t pass herself off as an Indian maiden as easily as she thought she could. She’d been told that with her dark complexion, Indian-style clothing and mannerisms that she excelled at looking, thinking and behaving like a Chickasaw. She’d become very good at it…
    When it dawned on her that this Hawk character was purposely baiting her as a means of distraction, she relaxed her stance and smiled nonchalantly. After all, she could be as deceptive as he could if she tried.
    “So…Mr. Hawk, what’s the price on my friend’s head now?” She guessed five thousand. If she eluded captivity for a month, she predicted Oliver Draper would hike it up.
    “Twenty thousand.”
    Her eyes popped and she had to remind herself not to become sidetracked because she wasn’t dealing with the village idiot here. This man had proved himself exceptionally skilled at finding someone who worked hard at not being found.
    When he inched a step closer, she lifted her pistol another notch. “Stay where you are, Mr. Hawk. You’re wasting your time here, but I’ll tell Savvy that she’s worth a lot of money.”
    “Twenty thousand will buy a lot of trinkets. You’d also be set for life.” He tried to tempt her.
    Naturally, Fletcher Hawk ignored her command to stay put—which she’d counted on. Men never gave women credit for ingenuity. It was their Achilles’ heel and she took advantage.
    She cocked her head, as if pondering his offer. “I am getting tired of this cat-and-mouse game of leading you and the other men in circles. Maybe I’ll take you to Savvy’s hiding place and let you capture her. Will you split the reward with me?”
    “Done.” He took that one last reckless step