Her Outlaw Read Free

Dair.”
    “No. They don’t do a thorough enough investigation into their employees’ backgrounds. Besides, I need a personal referral from someone I trust implicitly.”
    “Alasdair, I know it’s important to you to personally choose the right person for this job. I discovered early on in our acquaintance that you have a deep-seated need to control events. But wouldn’t it be easier to find the perfect employee in Texas?”
    “I’d have to be in Texas for that, and making the trip at this juncture simply isn’t feasible.”
    “If this is so important to you, why not?”
    “It’s complicated, Sister. Just know that I would go if it were possible.” The problem needed to be solved from here.
    Dair’s mind raced. What could he do to change her mind? “I’ll double the salary. You could send the extra back to St. Stephen’s. You’d be helping both causes.”
    Her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered to her plate. “But you’ve already offered a salary far beyond fair.”
    “It’s obviously not enough if you’re willing to turn down the position.” He’d just have to work a little harder, a little longer, to obtain the extra funds. “Plus, I’ll increase the endowment by twenty percent.”
    That was a lie, of course—he didn’t have the funds for that unless he swallowed his pride and asked his friend, Jake Kimball, for help—but she wouldn’t know it until it was too late. If he got her to Piney Woods, she’d stay. “I need you, Sister. Please reconsider.”
    She listened, but another half hour of his most persuasive arguments netted him nothing more than a vow to keep looking for a replacement, and the promise that she’d pray for him. He didn’t figure either one would do him much good.
    Frustration rode his shoulders, and an all too familiar headache nudged at his brain as he exited the bakery and joined the crowd of shoppers strolling along the sidewalks. Worry had him feeling mean and malicious, so he indulged himself by calling on old talents to pick a few wealthy men’s pockets. He managed surprisingly good results. Gentlemen carried more in their pockets these days than they had when he supported himself with the practice.
    He worked the streets and fought off the headache until a tingle at the back of his neck warned him that he’d caught somebody’s notice. Casually glancing around, he attempted to identify the spy.
    There. A ragamuffin boy of about ten. One of London’s legion of homeless children, no doubt. Carefully, Dair set his trap.
    He led the boy into an alley, then hid behind a wooden crate. When the boy walked by, he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The kid squealed as Dair pushed his back against the wall, his feet dangling a foot off the ground. “Hello, boyo. I think it is time you and I had a bit of a chat, don’t you?”
    “Let me go, mister. I didn’t do nothin’.”
    “I beg to differ. You’ve been watching me. Why?”
    Bravado rang in the boy’s tone. “Maybe I’m thinking to hook what you’ve been busy snitchin’.”
    “If you have the hands to take it from me, little one, it’s yours. First, though, I’ll have an answer to my question.” He tightened his grip on the boy slightly and smiled a threat. “Why are you dogging my heels?”
    The boy’s eyes rounded. He’d understood Dair’s warning. “It’s a job. He’s paying me.”
    “Who is paying you? To do what?”
    “Watch. That’s all. I’m to watch what you do and report. But don’t worry, mister. I won’t tell about the dippin’ you’ve been doin’, I swear.”
    Dair gave him a little shake. “How long? How long have you been watching me?”
    “Today’s me first day. I promise. The regular fella couldn’t work today, so I’m filling in. Me mom is sick and she cain’t work and we need the money for the little ones.”
    The regular fellow? Damnation. “Who hired you?”
    “I don’t know his name!” The boy rattled off a lengthy explanation that netted Dair