York, the Renegade

Book 2: The Shamrock Trinity

by Iris Johansen

Genres: Women's Fiction; Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Tombstone and Dodge City have nothing on Hell’s Bluff. In #1 New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen’s scorching tale set in a rough-and-tumble mining town, passion takes a man and woman on one wild ride.
 
Knocking on a stranger’s door in the middle of the night—and in the middle of a storm—isn’t Sierra Smith’s idea of a good time. But she doesn’t need a warm welcome in York Delaney’s town, just the chance for her traveling troupe to perform . . . then they’ll move on. So where does the seriously gorgeous alpha rancher get the idea that Sierra needs protection? All her life, Sierra’s craved a place to belong. No matter what feelings York reawakens in her, that place couldn’t be Hell’s Bluff, could it?
 
After roaming the world for seven years, York has come home to the land he’s bound to by ties deeper than blood. He’s supposed to be soothing his restless spirit, not chasing after a big-eyed waif. But Sierra ignites a hunger he left behind long ago. Somehow, he must find a way to keep her in his life. Because if she leaves—taking his zealously guarded heart with her—there’ll be hell to pay.
 
Includes a special message from the editor, as well as excerpts from these Loveswept titles: Tempting a Devil, The Story Guy, and Friday Night Alibi.

Release date: August 12, 2013

Publisher: Loveswept

Print pages: 252

Sample

One
 
“Open your coat and get your shirt damp.” Chester Brady was gazing critically at Sierra Smith. “We need all the help we can get with York Delaney. He’s as tough as they come.”
 
“No way, Chester,” Sierra said wearily. “I’m already so wet, I’m practically floating. You open your coat and get your shirt wet to play orphan of the storm. Maybe he’ll want to take you in from the cold.”
 
She wished she hadn’t mentioned the cold. It only reminded her how miserable it was out here in the pouring rain. She wiped the freezing moisture from her forehead, but the gesture was totally futile. More rivulets flowed down her face from her sodden hair. She muttered an imprecation as she remembered that her wet hair was also Chester’s fault. He had snatched off the sock cap and thrown it in the cab of his truck before they had left the spot outside of town where the troupe’s vehicles and trailers were parked. Chester was nothing if not thorough when setting up his scenes.
 
“You don’t have to be so prickly.” Chester actually sounded indignant. “You know I’m doing this to help all of us. Do you think I like going to Delaney, hat in hand, begging permission to come into this godforsaken town?”
 
“Then why are we here?” Sierra asked. Her feet were sinking into the mud, and she didn’t know if it was the mud clinging to her boots or the cold numbness of her feet that was making her stumble. “Hell’s Bluff can’t have a large population. It’s just a little mountain mining town, isn’t it?
 
“A very rich mining town,” Chester said. “The adjective makes all the difference. We were here two years ago, and it was our best take of the year. Hell’s Bluff has one of the richest copper mines in Arizona, as well as being a Delaney property. Those two factors guarantee excellent wages. Then add the fact that Delaney doesn’t allow anyone but male mine personnel in the town, and you have the perfect setup for us: several hundred bored, restless miners just aching to spend those excellent wages. The troupe should do a fantastic business.”
 
“Only mine personnel? You mean, no wives or families? How can he get away with such a thing?”
 
“Money. I told you, he pays better than any operator in the state. He claims women are a disturbing influence in an isolated mountain town like this. So he gives his men one month’s leave out of every four to go down the mountain and return to civilization.”
 
“Civilization?” She laughed, and it suddenly turned into a hacking cough. It was a minute before she could stop. Oh, Lord, not again, she thought. The tightening in her chest was frighteningly familiar. No, she wouldn’t be ill again. It was only because the wind was so sharp here on the side of this damn mountain that it hurt to take a breath. “You make this town sound like it’s in the wilds of Africa,” she said.
 
“Not Africa, but it’s definitely wild. Dodge City or Tombstone in their heyday would be a more apt comparison.” Chester paused, and when he spoke again, it was with grudging concern. “That’s a nasty cough you have. You’re not coming down with something?”
 
“No, it’s just a cold.” She hoped to heaven she was right. She couldn’t afford not to be well. As long as she was strong she had value to Brady’s Olde Tyme Vaudeville Troupe. She had a place and a purpose.
 
“You ought to take better care of yourself,” he said gruffly.
 
She almost laughed aloud. Take good care of herself, indeed. Considering he’d done everything possible to see she was thoroughly chilled, the remark struck Sierra as the height of absurdity. Yet she knew he actually meant it. Chester wasn’t cruel so much as blindly single-minded about his troupe. He could even be surprisingly sympathetic on rare occasions. “I’ll take an antibiotic when I get back to the trailer,” she said. “Providing we ever do get back. How much farther is it to Hell’s Bluff anyway?”
 
“Around the next turn. Delaney’s house is right on the edge of the town.”
 
“Why do we have to ask permission anyway? If you were here two years go, you must have established a relationship with the man.”
 
“It’s only courtesy.” Chester’s glance sidled away. “Besides, Delaney owns the only theater in town.”
 
“I still don’t see why you—”
 
“Well, actually there was a little difficulty the last time I was here,” he said uncomfortably. “It wasn’t my fault, of course, but there was talk of one of the performers in the troupe operating a crooked dice game in the wardrobe room in the basement of the theater.”
 
“You mean, you were run out of town.” It was worse than Sierra had thought. This cold wet trek was going to be totally useless. “Then will you tell me why we’re on this blasted mountain in the middle of the night when we could be in Phoenix or Tucson?” The thought of the warm desert country filled her with wistfulness.
 
“It’s not the middle of the night; it’s only a few minutes after ten. And the pickings are so good here, it’s worth a try. A small traveling company like mine can’t compete with the big road shows touring those cities. You know what a rotten take we had in Prescott.”
 
“Yes, I know.” She had thought Brady’s troupe would go under three weeks ago when a freak ice storm had kept the crowds away for the entire engagement. “But you told me this Delaney was a tough operator. What makes you think he’ll have changed his mind about you in the last two years?”
 
“He probably hasn’t, but I’ll have to try anyway.” There was a hint of grimness in Chester’s tone of voice. “Without a good take I can’t last another month. I’ll be damned if I give up because I’ve had a run of lousy luck. So you just be a good little girl and sit there in the parlor looking at him with those big black eyes while I try to wring a bit of compassion out of the bastard.”
 
“All right, but that’s all I’m going to do. It’s up to you to persuade him.” It was growing more difficult to breathe. Did she still have any penicillin tablets left in the trailer? she wondered.
 
“That’s all I want you to do,” Chester said. “If I’d wanted a woman to seduce the man, I’d have brought Selma. You’re hardly equipped for it, Sierra.”
 
She would have smiled, but it wasn’t worth the effort. He probably didn’t even realize he’d insulted her. Not that she had any illusions about her attractiveness. She had accepted all her assets as well as her limitations a long time before she’d come to work for Brady’s vaudeville troupe. “I meant, I won’t do any talking.”
 
“No one asked you to talk. But you know damn well your face has an amazing effect on creditors and bribe-hungry sheriffs. It’s worth a try with Delaney.” They rounded a bend in the road and Chester gestured. “There’s Hell’s Bluff up ahead. Delaney’s place is just past the large pine tree on the left. It’s the big Victorian mansion wih all those fancy turrets and cupolas.”
 
The driving rain made it impossible to see anything beyond a few yards in front of her, and she could barely make out the twinkle of lights in the town ahead. Delaney’s house was closer, however, and was illuminated by two ornate lanterns on each side of the double doors. The red bulbs in the lanterns glowed garishly over the front porch, turning the white paint a rose hue. “I gather Delaney has a fondness for red,” she said. “Those lanterns are really hideous.”
 
“It’s probably more an offbeat sense of humor than preference. This building was a bordello during the Gold Rush days of the 1800s. After the gold ran out, Hell’s Bluff became a ghost town. When copper was discovered here recently, Delaney restored the original buildings.”
 
“That must have cost him a fortune. He doesn’t sound like a very tough businessman.” To her intense relief they had reached the porch and were sheltered from the rain if not the cold. A bordello, for heaven’s sake, she thought. This was taking on all the aspects of a farce.
 
“He can afford the whimsy,” Chester said dryly. “He’s a Delaney, remember? From what I heard, his brothers were glad to underwrite any expense to get him to take an interest in the corporation when he came home from wandering around the world five years ago.” He rang the doorbell. “And the atmosphere here certainly suits him to a T.”
 
“A bordello or a Wild West town?” Sierra asked dully. She didn’t know why she was asking questions. She had no real interest in either Delaney or Hell’s Bluff. She just wanted this over so she could get back to her trailer and go to bed.
 
“Both. He’s something of a renegade.” Chester’s brow was furrowed in a frown. “Why the devil aren’t they coming to the door?”
 
“Maybe there’s no one at home. We weren’t exactly sent an engraved invitation.” The irony didn’t faze Chester. She doubted he even caught it. Renegade, she mused. What a melodramatic word. She supposed it wasn’t any more melodramatic than living in a bordello in a ghost town. No, it wasn’t a ghost town; it was a boom town now. She had to remember that. She seemed to be having trouble thinking—much less remembering—anything at the moment.