Wildstar

She rallied at his attack, her chin coming up. "If you dare say one word about me not behaving like a woman should, I'll . . . I'll throw you down the mountain!"

Devlin took a deep breath and strove for patience. "Pull in your horns, angel. I wasn't maligning your femininity." When she simply stared at him numbly, he reached up and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "Jess, go home and get some sleep. I'll handle this from now on."

Flinching from his touch, she shook her head. It would be too easy to let Devlin shoulder her problems. Too easy to lean on him and let him cany on the struggle for her. But it wouldn't be right. She couldn't allow him to keep risking his life for her while she walked away. One day his luck just might run out, and she couldn't live with her­self if that happened. If he were hurt or killed because of her . . . She couldn't bear to think of it.

"I can't let you handle it by yourself," she replied qui­etly. "I can't leave you to fight them alone."

Refusing even his assistance in mounting, Jess dragged her weary body up into the saddle and straightened the skirts of her brown calico gown. She was so tired she was ready to drop, not only because of the grueling demands on her time during recent weeks, but because of the lack of sleep. She'd found it hard to live with herself the past five days. She had helped kill a man, and the memory made her sick to her stomach. Ever since then, she'd had nightmares about it—and about the rest of that night on the trail. It made her skin crawl, knowing she and Devlin had been stalked by the same gunmen they'd been trailing. And then there was Devlin himself. Every time she looked at him, at his hard sensuous mouth, she remembered the feel of him kissing her bare breasts and she flushed with humiliation. Dear Lord, she'd nearly allowed Devlin to se­duce her.

Only the gravity of her other problems kept her from dwelling on that serious lapse in judgment. She was in big trouble. All her efforts at protecting the mine had been a failure. McRoy's death had ended their search for the gun­men, and now they were like sitting ducks, not knowing when the next attack would come.

In her weakest moments she allowed herself to hope that the shooting of McRoy would warn off the others, maybe even end the feud. Maybe, just maybe Burke's gun­men wouldn't be back. But it was far more likely that they would retaliate for the death of one of their members. They'd choose a time when the mine was most vulnerable, and then . . . They wouldn't have to destroy the operation entirely. Even minor sabotage could be enough to make Riley lose his crew and drive his business under.

She felt the ache of unshed tears clog her throat. Lately it felt like her entire world was crumbling around her.

She started to turn her horse and came up short.

"My God . . ." Jess breathed. "Look."

A red flickering light shone ominously from within the Wildstar, while a small crackling noise reached her ears.

The abrupt oath Devlin gave was low and vicious as he turned to run. Weariness gone, Jess was off her horse and following him in less than a second, reaching the mouth a few yards behind him. She didn't like entering the mine even under normal circumstances, and this was far from normal, with black and red shadows leaping on the walls. She stumbled more than once along the glowing tunnel, over rail tracks and rough floor.

Halfway along the narrow rockbound passage she came to the fire. It was a only a small blaze—apparently made of debris and ore bags, but the smoke it gave off was black and choking, and the stench of kerosene was almost over­powering.

Devlin had already scooped up a rawhide bag and was beating at the flames. Jess turned to fetch one of several buckets of water that were always kept in the mine for drinking and for emergencies like this.

"A trap . . . Jess, get out of here!" Devlin shouted.

Jess halted in indecision, torn between common sense and loyalty. That fire hadn't started by itself, and was very likely the kind of decoy Devlin had warned her about. She wanted to obey him, but she couldn't bear to leave him here to fight the fire on his own.

Before she even had a chance to decide, the choice was taken from her; a sharp crack like a gunshot sounded from the mouth of the tunnel.

Devlin reached for his Colt.

"No!" Jess shrieked. "Don't shoot in here!" It would be insane to fire a gun in a mine tunnel; the danger from ric­ocheting bullets was too great.

Devlin apparently understood. Even as he nodded and started back toward the mouth of the tunnel, another spark lit up the entrance.

Then all hell broke loose. A jarring boom, a violent rush of air, a loud grinding rumble . . . the tremendous explo­sion seemed to make the whole earth vibrate. The deafen­ing sound of splintering timbers and crashing rocks drowned out Jess's scream. She felt herself being hurled back as her world erupted in a fusillade of flying stones, timbers, and dirt. Then pain exploded in her head and ev­erything went black.

The stink of sulfur and smoke and suffocating dust greeted her when next she opened her eyes. Immediately Jess found herself gasping for breath. She must have been knocked out by the blast for a minute, she realized dizzily as she heard a man's agonized voice call her name.

"Jess! Answer me!"

"D-Devlin?"

Even that small attempt sent her into a spasm of cough­ing and choking. "Are you hurt?"

Am I hurt? she wondered, forcing herself to take inven­tory. She was sprawled on the rock floor, her face pressed against the wall, that much she knew. Her ears were ring­ing, while her head ached abominably.

"I think so—ooh—" She broke off as another stabbing pain knifed into her left temple. Her groan echoed hol­lowly in the tunnel.

"Don't move! I'll come to you."

I'm not going anywhere, she thought dazedly. Help­lessly, she waited, her body convulsing in another fit of coughing. When it was over, she tried to make out Dev­lin's outline, but she couldn't see a blessed thing. The darkness was absolute, the silence terrible. Her heart began to pound with raw fear as the horrible realization of their predicament began to dawn on her.

Then Devlin unearthed a still smoldering sliver of wood from the smothered fire and fanned the ember to life, chas­ing away the blackness with the tiny flame. Jess blinked at the sudden brightness and raised a hand to shield her eyes, but she couldn't block out the sight that met her gaze through the haze of dust. White-faced, with dread clutch­ing at her heart, she stared at the wall of rubble that blocked the entrance to the tunnel.