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    Dark Rider
    Dark Rider
    Dark Rider
    Ebook112 pages1 hour

    Dark Rider

    By Lorraine Kennedy

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Loving the enemy takes on an entirely different meaning for an outlaw's daughter and the bounty hunter she believes killed her father.

    Loving the enemy takes on an entirely different meaning for an outlaw's daughter and the bounty hunter she believes killed her father.

    A dark rider lurks in the shadows of Angel Beaumont's world, waiting and watching.
    Angel is unaware of the danger stalking her when she sets out to kill the notorious, Hunter Night. What begins as a mission to bring her father's killer to justice; turns into a tangled web of dark family secrets, and murder.
    An outlaw's daughter and a half-breed bounty hunter traverse the canvas of the Old West, setting their trail ablaze with an unquenchable passion that takes these two adversaries by storm.
    They must come to terms with their passion and trust each other before they become the next victims of an evil older than mankind?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLorraine Kennedy
    Release dateMar 17, 2015
    ISBN9781507076316
    Dark Rider

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      Book preview

      Dark Rider - Lorraine Kennedy

      Chapter One

      Everyday for the last seven years, Angel thought about what she would do if this moment ever came.

      What would she say? How would she control her violent hate for a man she’d never laid eyes on?

      As soon as she entered the saloon, the stench of unwashed bodies and stale smoke sent a gagging impulse from her stomach up to her throat. She pushed the feeling away. There was no time to be prissy, not with her opportunity for revenge so close.

      Angel pressed her way further into the crowded room of the Bucket of Blood Saloon. At least seven men stood around the gouged and scarred wooden bar, but Angel knew instantly which of the men was the infamous, Hunter Night.

      Hunter stood apart from the others, but it was more than space that separated him from the other men in the room. There was something about him that was forbidden, as if the world was unwelcome to step into his personal space.

      He was a loner, and liked it that way just fine. While practically every soul in the room stole glances at his back, curiosity wasn’t enough for even the bravest present to intrude on the Hunter’s solitude.

      With slow - determined steps, Angel crept closer to the bar, her eyes burning with fury.

      Known as the Hunter, he was said to be one of the most dangerous men in the west, but at this moment that fact could do nothing to deter Angel.

      Hunter was her prey.

      The man she held captive in her sights leaned his tall frame against the bar while he nursed a bottle of whiskey. His leather pants and beaded vest molded to his muscular flesh. Long, black hair fell over his wide shoulders.

      He took no notice of the young lady who sat on the stool beside him. He didn’t even raise a brow at the fact the girl seemed oddly out of place in her flower-print dress and bonnet.

      Hunter Night? Though Angel phrased it as a question, she already knew who he was.

      Slowly, he turned ice blue eyes in her direction, but he said nothing to confirm his identity.

      Hunter patiently waited for the woman beside him to state her business.

      His casual indifference brought a flush of humiliation to Angel’s face. This spurred on her reckless intent. My name is Angel Beaumont and I believe you were an acquaintance of my father, Trent Beaumont.

      Angel waited for a reaction, but the man was completely unreadable.

      Angel felt her temper seeping to the surface with each passing second. I would like to ask you a few questions about my father, if you don’t mind?

      Still Hunter said nothing, but he appeared to be looking at her with a touch more interest.

      My father disappeared eleven years ago while on his way to Santa Fe to meet you. I demand you tell me what happened to him! Angel’s anger toward this man was causing her to lose sight of her good sense.

      Finally he spoke, his deep voice carrying his words softly so that no one close would overhear. Sorry Miss, but I never had the pleasure of meeting Trent Beaumont in Santa Fe. A hint of a smile played upon his lips.

      I believe you killed my father, Hunter Night! Her voice quivered with barely controlled rage.

      His smile only widened, making it very obvious he found the conversation amusing. Well miss, you would be wrong then.

      Angel tucked an irritating tawny ringlet back into her bonnet. Mr. Night, I demand satisfaction on behalf of my father. She spoke the words loud enough so that all could hear.

      For a split second, Hunter was caught off guard and Angel felt a sliver of satisfaction when she saw the startled look in his eyes.

      The room had become so quiet, Angel was sure he could hear her teeth grinding in nervous determination.

      When Hunter realized that her challenge was not just mere words, he stood up to his full height and looked down on her with something between contempt and wonder.

      Miss, as much as I would like to give you the attention that you seem to be seeking, I have to get riding. He touched the rim of his black hat in a gesture of mock respect.

      The urge to smack the smile right off his face was almost uncontrollable, but instead, Angel spread her full - red lips into a dazzling smile of her own.

      As you wish, Mr. Night ... but our next meeting might not be quite as pleasant as this one. Angel turned on her heels and strolled out of the Bucket of Blood. The crowd of men and prostitutes who had gathered to watch the action, now parted so she could pass.

      She was dazed briefly by the bright sunlight, but shielding her eyes with one hand helped.

      Her eyes adjusted just in time to see her stepmother burst out of the Silver Lady. The slightly plump blond woman ran to where Angel stood on the wooden plank sidewalk.

      Girl, have you gone plumb mad? May Beaumont waved her hands as she spoke, as if her limbs flying through the air would help to get her point across. I just got word that my foolish stepdaughter was challenging the Hunter to a gun fight!

      May was wearing a low-cut, blue silk gown that made her blue eyes look like sapphires in her tired, but pretty face. A gust of wind whipped through May’s golden ringlets. Out of habit her hands went up to smooth her curls back into place.

      That man will not get away with killing Pa. Angel’s own anger boiled to the surface.

      Hang up the fiddle girl. That man you speak of happens to be the Hunter. There isn’t a soul been able to take him down yet.

      More from frustration than discomfort, Angel yanked the bonnet from her head, allowing a cascade of golden brown curls to fall to her waist. I may be only a woman, but I am also Trent Beaumont’s daughter, and his murderer will have some reckoning to do.

      May shook her head sadly and gently clasped Angel’s arm, leading her toward the church where she’d left the wagon.

      When she’d heard the whispers in church that the Hunter was in the Bucket of Blood, Angel hadn’t been able to think of anything but skinning that man’s hide. She’d shamelessly walked out of Sunday services in the middle of Reverend Duncan’s sermon.

      When they reached the wagon, May gently clasped Angel’s shoulders and peered into her stepdaughters determined face.

      There were tears in May Beaumont’s eyes. I have failed you and your father if you go get yourself killed, Angel.

      Angel was riddled with guilt for the anguish she knew her actions would cause her stepmother. You are the only mother I have ever known, and you certainly have not failed me. What would have happened to me if you hadn’t taken in Trent Beaumont’s daughter? Angel hugged May before climbing into the wagon.

      May put one hand on her hip and pointed a finger at Angel with the other. You stay away from that savage. You understand girl?

      Angel didn’t answer. Instead, she smiled and took hold of the reins with both hands. Waving to her stepmother, she led the wagon and their old roan down Virginia City’s main street.

      A few minutes later, Angel’s wagon left the town behind as she headed into the Comstock Mining District. Everywhere one looked, silver mines dotted the sage covered hills. With her thoughts in a whirlwind, she hardly noticed the breakneck speed in which the wagon was taking the steep decline from Virginia City.

      Hidden in Devil’s Canyon was the little two-room cabin Trent Beaumont built for his family. Angel’s thoughts drifted as she expertly maneuvered the horse and wagon onto the deeply rutted canyon road. 

      The words May

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