Her Cold Revenge

Chapter 13

"Grace! Are you all right?" Joe stopped, hands raised, when he spotted the gun.

The desperation in his voice and the concern on his face touched Grace's heart, and she longed to fling herself into his arms, but she had to stay alert. A groan came from the hearth, and she whirled, her gun aimed at Plimpton.

"What happened?" Joe eyed the man sprawled on the floor. "Is he the one you were after?"

Her lips pinched in a tight line, Grace nodded.

"You shot him?" Joe strode to the hearth where blood was pooling under Plimpton's shoulder.

"We had a tussle."

"What?" Joe looked up, and his hands balled into fists as he took in her disheveled clothes and puffy cheek. He rushed over to her, lifting her chin and tilting it to the light. "He did this?" he said quietly, trailing a finger lightly along her cheek and over the finger marks on her neck. Joe's touch involuntarily set Grace's pulse zinging, but she forced herself to keep her eyes averted and the gun trained on Plimpton.

When his gaze reached her ripped bodice, Joe's jaw clenched. "He didn't —"

"He tried." Her throat had closed so tightly she could barely get the words out. She pushed away memories of Plimpton's hands on her body. The disgusting kiss and his hands tearing at her clothes. Remembering it almost made her retch.

"That bastard. That low-down, dirty bastard." Joe strode toward the hearth, anger in every line of his body. "So help me, I'm going to —"

"Joe . . ." Grace said in a warning voice, though part of her wanted him to beat the man to a pulp.

He swung back his foot and booted Plimpton hard in the rear, and the criminal yowled, clutched at his bloody shoulder, and cowered.

"You need a good kick in your —" Joe's foot hovered over the man's crotch.

Plimpton's face twisted in agony, and he drew his legs up closer to his body. "No," he whimpered.

"I already did that," Grace said.

"You did?" Joe turned to her, admiration temporarily sweeping away the murderous look in his eyes.

"That's how I got away."

Joe shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. "Grace Milton, you are one amazing woman."

Grace had a hard time tearing her gaze from his, but Plimpton had fooled her before. She couldn't take a chance he'd do it again. Joe followed her gaze, and his hand went to his own gun.

"Why didn't you kill him? That's what he deserves."

"Don't —"

"Anyone who would do that to an innocent woman doesn't deserve to live." His voice was low and filled with rage now.

Grace stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. "He's my bounty."

"You'll get paid whether he's dead or alive." Joe's eyes didn't leave Plimpton.

"Joe, please," she said, trying to think fast. "With your bullet in him, they may think I didn't do it."

Shaking with anger, he finally moved his hand away from his gun. "If I had the money, I'd pay you the bounty for the privilege of killing this varmint."

"Actually," Grace said, "don't you think it's fitting punishment for him to be brought into town by a woman?"

Joe looked at her and grinned, but the fury didn't leave his eyes. "That will be fun to watch."