Love, Lies and Redemption

By Kelli A. Wilkins

Love, Lies and Redemption

Shot and left for dead, Sam Hixton stumbles into a general store on the Nebraska prairie and collapses into the arms of Cassie Wilcox.

Cassie's world is turned upside down when the handsome stranger drops into her life. Sam is another complication she doesn't need: her business is dying and her trouble with the townspeople is escalating. Yet she's determined to keep the store open — no matter what the cost.

As Sam recovers from his injuries, he hides the truth about his identity and convinces Cassie to let him work in the store. He's attracted to her and admires her independent nature, but quickly realizes Cassie's in way over her head.

They fight their growing attraction, and Cassie questions whether she can trust her fragile heart to a mysterious stranger. Will he accept her once he knows about her troubled past?

Cassie resists Sam's advances and represses her feelings until one fateful night when they give in to their fiery passion. Together, they work out a plan to save the store, but find their efforts are thwarted — and their lives endangered — by the locals.

Sam's secret returns to haunt him and pulls him away just when Cassie needs him the most. Will he regain her trust when she learns the truth?

Cassie has everything invested in the store — can she save it and find true love with Sam before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelli A. Wilkins
• Release date: Jan 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393048473

Kelli A. Wilkins

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Kelli A. Wilkins is an award-winning author who has published more than 100 short stories, 20 romance novels, 3 horror ebooks, and 7 non-fiction books. Her romances span many genres and heat levels, and she’s also been known to scare readers with her horror stories. In January 2021, Kelli released Journaling Every Week: 52 Topics to Get You Writing. This fun and innovative guide to journaling is filled with hundreds of thought-provoking prompts designed to get you writing about your feelings and emotions. In 2020, Kelli published Love, Lies & Redemption, a western romance set in 1877 Nebraska. This novel blends a sensual love story with mystery and danger. She released Romance Every Weekend: 104 Fun Ways to Express Your Love, a non-fiction guide to romance in 2019. The book features 104 fun and easy ways you can express your love to that special someone in your life. Perfect for men or women, it focuses on tender, everyday gestures that let your partner know how much you love him or her. Kelli published Extraterrestrial Encounters, a collection of 18 sci-fi stories, in 2019. If you like horror fiction, don’t miss her disturbing novella, Nightmare in the North. Her writing book, You Can Write—Really! A Beginner’s Guide to Writing Fiction is a fun and informative guide filled with writing exercises and helpful tips all authors can use. Kelli posts on her Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKelliWilkins and Twitter: www.Twitter.com/KWilkinsauthor. Visit her website www.KelliWilkins.com  to learn more about all of her writings.

Book preview

​​

ROMANCES BY KELLI A. WILKINS

A Deceptive Match*

A Secret Match*

A Most Unusual Princess**

A Most Intriguing Temptation**

A Most Unfortunate Prince**

Beauty & the Bigfoot

Confessions of a Vampire’s Lover

Cupid’s Schemes (Volume 1)

Cupid’s Schemes (Volume 2)

Dangerous Indenture

Four Days with Jack

Killer in Wolf’s Clothing

Love, Lies & Redemption

Loving a Wild Stranger

Midsummer Night’s Delights* * *

Midwinter Night’s Delights* * *

Redemption from a Dark Past

Trust with Hearts

Ultimate Night’s Delights* * *

The Viking’s Witch

* A Deceptive Match and A Secret Match are related titles with shared characters. However, each novel can be read separately.

** These titles make up the Royal Desires series. Although connected, each book stands alone as an individual read.

* * * These novellas complete the Naughty Nobles trilogy. It is recommended that they are read in sequence.

Visit Kelli’s website: www.KelliWilkins.com for additional titles as they become available.

CHAPTER ONE

NEBRASKA, 1877

Sam wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and forced himself to take another step. He grimaced as a white-hot pain shot up his right thigh. Keep moving. He had to keep moving. If he stopped, he’d die.

He sucked dusty air in through his clenched teeth and pressed on. One foot in front of the other. Left, right, wince. Repeat. After he’d hobbled a few more steps, his vision blurred, and the narrow wagon trail went fuzzy. Shit. That wasn’t good. The last time that happened, he woke face down on the prairie, half-fried in the sun. If he fell again, he’d never get up.

He shook his head to clear it and limped toward salvation. Just after sunrise, he had cleared the top of a hill and spotted a town in the distance. The wood buildings stood out like lighthouse beacons. How much farther was it? Five hundred yards? A thousand? It didn’t matter. He’d get there if he had to crawl. The town would have a doc to dig the bullets out of him—and water.

Water. He swallowed and felt an all-too-familiar burn in the back of his throat. His mouth was bone-dry and tasted like dirt. How long had it been since he’d had water? A day? Two? Hell, how long had it been since he was shot and left for dead?

He had stumbled across the Nebraska prairie for days, praying alternately for rescue or death. If God didn’t hate him, he would have come across a homestead, seen a rancher, or met someone on horseback—but he was alone. From time to time, he’d wondered if maybe he was already dead and cursed to wander like this for eternity.

But dead people didn’t feel pain. And yet, by all rights, he was supposed to be dead. The bastards who shot him had stripped him of the essentials: his horse, his canteen, and his guns. They had taken everything he needed to survive—but they didn’t get his satchel.

Something warm and wet trickled down his back in tiny rivulets. Was it sweat? Blood? He wasn’t sure anymore. He ignored it and clutched the leather satchel tighter in his right hand. Wouldn’t he be a sight for whoever found him when he got to town? Filthy, smelly, and covered in blood, he probably looked more dead than alive. If the doc—

His right leg buckled under him, and he sprawled to the ground. He lay in the grass, too weak to move. The wind blew dirt in his eyes as flies buzzed around his face. He tried to raise his left arm to shoo them away, but the pain was too much to bear. A bullet had ripped into his shoulder and probably was stuck in his back.

He closed his eyes. Why fight? It would be easier to stay here and die. By noon, buzzards would start swirling overhead, ready to pick at his bloodied flesh. Someone from town might wander out to see what the vultures were after, but it wasn’t likely. It wouldn’t take long to—

A banging noise interrupted his thoughts. He raised his head in the direction of the sound. Town. Someone was nearby. He had to call for help. Move. Get up and move. Now!

He gathered what little strength he had left and pushed himself to his knees. A flash of pain cut across his ribs as he rose to his feet and turned toward town. A woman was sweeping the porch in front of a brown building. Thank God. Someone could help him.

He called out, but his feeble croak was lost in the wind.

His heart sank as he realized she was too far away to hear him. The woman reminded him of an angel in her white dress with her long, blonde hair flowing loose around her shoulders. Surely that was a good sign. Maybe God had forgiven him and sent an angel to rescue him. Nah. That’d be ridiculous. God hated him.

He focused on the building and took a step. Keep going. Only a little more, he whispered.

CASSIE DUSTED OFF A can of apricots and restacked it on the shelf. Why do I even bother? she muttered as she picked up the next can.

Another week had come and gone, but her days were always the same. Get up at dawn, sweep out the store, dust off the cans, and . . . wait. Her few customers strolled in on Saturday and Sunday afternoons to buy odds and ends, but nearly everyone bought their bulk goods at the general store in Baxter. Townsfolk came here only when they wanted something quick—or on credit.

The bell above the door jangled, but she didn’t bother to turn around. That you, Luke? You’re up early. I bet you haven’t seen this side of ten o’clock in— She glanced over her shoulder and shrieked. The can of apricots slipped from her hand and rolled across the floor.

A stranger covered in blood leaned against the doorjamb.

She raced to his side. Who are you? What happened?

The man locked his blue eyes onto hers. Help me. He held a battered leather satchel out to her. Hide this, he said, then collapsed forward.

Cassie caught him around the waist and eased him to the plank floor. Was he dead? She felt the side of his sweaty neck. His heart was beating, but he looked like hell. His clothes were coated in blood and dirt, and his face had a sickly white hue to it. He was lucky to be alive. Someone had shot him full of holes.

She patted his bearded face, and he moaned. Talk to me. Who are you?

Where had he come from? Holloway was in the middle of nowhere. There was no railroad connection, and the town wasn’t on the stagecoach line. She hadn’t heard a horse out front, and he couldn’t have walked here from Baxter, could he? That would be suicide.

Wild ideas raced through her mind as she stared down at him. Maybe he was an outlaw or a bank robber. Decent people didn’t get themselves shot for no reason. Whoever shot him could’ve been following him, looking to finish him off.

Her gaze settled on the satchel. What was in it? Money? Gold? The deed to a silver mine? Why did he want her to hide it?

She brushed her hair away from her face and frowned. What the hell was she supposed to do with him? Why had he wandered into her store, of all places? The last thing she needed was a half-dead stranger complicating her life. His being here would only stir up trouble—and she already had more than she needed.

With a start, she realized he hadn’t moved. She shook his bloodied left shoulder. Hey, wake up. Don’t you dare die in my store.

The man remained motionless.

Damn it to hell. She yanked the satchel from his grip, then ran behind the counter and stuffed it in the bottom drawer. There wasn’t time to look inside and see what the stranger was hiding. Whoever he was, he needed help—fast.

CHAPTER TWO

CASSIE POUNDED ON THE white door again, harder this time. Open up, she said, banging once more.

A minute later, the door opened. "What in the name of—? Oh. You. Doctor Burke sneered at her. What are you doing here?"

She studied the doc for a second. He hadn’t changed much in the two years since she’d last seen him. Same slicked-back black hair, same mustache, same rat-like brown eyes, and the same nose so pointy he’d give a hawk a run for its money. A stranger’s been hurt. He’s shot up pretty bad. You have to come—

No. I don’t. He narrowed his eyes to slits. "And you have nerve, showing up on my doorstep thinking I’d ever help you, Cassie Wilcox. He smirked. Tell me, did I miss the news? Has Hell frozen over?"

She clenched her fists. Bastard. I didn’t come here for me. A man is dying—

Then cure him yourself. You think you know everything. He slammed the door in her face.

Miserable prick. She kicked the door, then ran down the dusty street to the sheriff’s office. She climbed the steps and knocked on the door. Luke, open up. It’s me.

She tried the door. It was locked. Shit. What if Luke had gone away overnight? She knocked on the door again. Luke!

Sake’s alive, Cassie, Luke snapped as he flung open the door. You know what time it is?

She folded her arms across her chest and craned her head back to look at him. Luke stood nearly six and a half feet tall and, when he first woke up, had the personality of a grizzly bear. His brown hair was sticking up all over his head, and he wore only a pair of beige trousers.

I hate to disturb you before noon, but I got a strange man dying in my store. He’s been shot.

Shot? Luke scowled and rubbed his stubbled chin. What do you expect me to do?

Come look at him. Get the doc to help him.

Luke mumbled something under his breath then went back into his office. She followed him inside, wrinkling her nose. The place smelled like liquor, unwashed laundry, and sweat.

Luke sat in a rickety wooden chair and pulled on his socks and boots. What happened?

A stranger wandered into the store and landed in a heap. I already went to the doc—

You did what? Luke’s mouth dropped open, and his brown eyes searched hers. Have you lost your mind? After what happened between you two, you actually expected him to help you?

I wasn’t asking for me. I’m not the one who’s half dead. She rolled her eyes. You might want to hurry. This fellow’s in bad shape.

How can you tell? He strapped his gun belt around his waist.

He’s pale, sweaty, and covered in blood. She shrugged. I reckon I don’t need a fancy medical degree to tell me that ain’t good.

Luke pulled on a blue-and-white-checked shirt. So you want me to take him to the doc for ya, huh?

Either that or we roll him into the street and leave him there to die. She sighed. Your choice.

Even if I take him to the doc, there’s no guarantee he’ll fix him up. Doc does what he wants. You know that. Luke picked up his hat as he went to the door and held it open for her.

And I also know the only person he cares about is himself. He’s more than willing to let people die if curing them might be an inconvenience, she spat as she stomped down the stairs.

I’ll take a look at him. No promises though.

Cassie followed Luke to the store and opened the door. He’s right there, next to the counter.

Sweet Jesus, Luke muttered as he knelt next to the man. He’s bad off. Those wounds are a few days old, maybe older.

What’s that mean?

He got shot someplace else and found his way here. He’s been bleeding out and probably left a blood trail behind him. Hold the door. Luke scooped the man up and draped him over his shoulder.

What are you going to do with him? Luke wasn’t really going to leave him in the street, was he?

Take him to the doc. Luke flashed her a stern look. And when we get there, let me do the talking.

CASSIE PACED THE PARLOR, counting her steps on the blue diamonds embroidered on the beige wool rug. What was taking so long? She glanced at the brass clock on the marble mantle: half past ten. Doctor Burke had been with Luke and the stranger for nearly two hours. For all the money the doc had robbed her of, he’d better be making sure the stranger had a complete recovery and lived to be a hundred years old.

Luke had carried the stranger to Doctor Burke’s house and insisted the doc treat the man. After a ten-minute argument, the doc had agreed on the condition that she would pay him fifty dollars in cash up front. Luke called it highway robbery, and Doctor Burke told them to pony up or dig the bullets out of the stranger themselves.

Doc kept Luke waiting in the tiled foyer while she ran back to the store for the money, cursing the whole way. Fifty dollars was practically all she had in the world, and it killed her to hand over her money to that greedy, selfish bastard—but she had no choice. If the doc didn’t operate, the man would die.

She stuck her head out of the parlor doorway and peered down the hall. The door to the doc’s office was still closed. For all she knew, the man might die anyway, even if the doc fixed him up. If that happened, she sure as hell wasn’t going to get her money back. Once or twice she’d heard a faint yell come from the other side of the door, but for the last hour, she’d heard nothing.

She studied the doc’s parlor. A piano stood in the far corner, paintings of landscapes and rivers lined the walls, and an ivory chess set was displayed on a small table near the navy blue horsehair sofa and chair. The cream-colored velvet wallpaper and dark wood trim gave the room an elegant look that was completely out of place in Holloway.

Where did the doc think he lived? In a fancy city like Philadelphia? Or in a European palace? Nobody in Holloway except the doc had two nickels to rub together.

She heard a door open and saw Luke step into the hallway. Is he—?

He’s alive. Doc dug out the lead and sewed him back up. He’s in pretty bad shape, though. I had the doc wash him down and shave the fuzz off his face, so he looks presentable.

Fine. I’m going back to the store and—

Not so fast. Luke clasped her arm. There’s a problem.

What?

Don’t get upset, but doc’s leaving in an hour to go to Ogallala for a week. He won’t be here to tend to the stranger.

So? He’ll have to change his plans or take the man with him. He can’t leave him here.

I don’t intend to. Doctor Burke strode down the hall, wiping his hands on a towel. I’m leaving him with you.

Her pulse flared. "Me? Like hell. You’re the doctor, he’s your patient, so he’s your responsibility, not mine. I paid you to fix him up—"

On the contrary. You paid me to ‘fix him up,’ as you so eloquently put it, and I did. But you never mentioned keeping him as my charge, Doctor Burke said in a clipped, nasally voice. I’m already packed, and I have plans. I’ll be unavailable—

You’d better make yourself available because I’m not taking him in, she argued. I don’t know anything about tending to a wounded man. What if something happens? What if he needs medicine?

I’m sure you can figure it out, Doctor Burke replied. I’ve done all I can. What happens now is in God’s hands.

Don’t you dare say that to me, you miserable son of a bitch. Cassie balled her right hand into a fist and lunged at the doc. Luke jumped between them and pushed her back. That’s what you said when you let Annie die. You don’t give a shit about anyone as long as you get your money.

The doc’s mouth dropped open. You ungrateful whore. You should—

Enough, Luke bellowed. Be quiet, both of you. My head hurts, and I don’t want to hear the two of you arguing.

Perhaps you wouldn’t be hungover if you weren’t in the saloon drinking until the wee hours of the morning, Doctor Burke quipped.

Luke glared at the doc. Any more comments like that outta you and I might let Cassie tear you apart. Tell me, what’s so important in Ogallala that you can’t stay and tend to your patient?

That’s none of your business.

Fine, Luke grumbled. Then tell me, what’s Cassie supposed to do with this man if his wounds turn sour?

Doctor Burke removed his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. If he doesn’t develop a fever and there are no red lines around the wounds, he should be fine. He gestured at the room behind him. "Now, if you don’t mind, Sheriff, kindly take this man back to the store where he belongs. I need to be leaving."

Cassie looked at Luke. You can’t let him do this. That man should stay here. He can’t dump him on me like this.

Cassie’s right, Doc. She’s got a store to run and—

A store? Doctor Burke tittered. That old pile of boards doesn’t qualify to be called a store. Real stores have customers. He paused. "Besides, he’ll be bedridden for at least a week. I’m sure that won’t be a problem for a woman like her. In fact, it might be more convenient," he said, smirking.

Bastard. It took all the self-control she had not to fling herself at the doc and punch him in the nose.

I’ll be happy to check on the patient when I return. Doctor Burke put his glasses back on. For my usual fee, of course.

Of course, she mocked. And what would that cost? Another twenty dollars? I already paid you everything I have.

"I’m sure you could find a way to earn it. You earned that money somehow."

Go to hell. She stormed into the parlor and kicked over the small table, sending chess pieces flying everywhere.

Cassie! Luke appeared in the parlor and glanced at the scattered chess pieces. Calm down.

Calm down? You want me to calm down? She pointed at the doc’s office. That self-righteous prick stole all my money and called me a whore, she growled and punched the horsehair chair. I swear, Luke . . .

Please stop yelling. I don’t like this any better than you do, but I’m tired, and I just want to settle this. Luke rubbed his eyes and yawned. If you and the doc wanna fight when he gets back, be my guest, but right now, you’ve gotta give a little. I’ll carry the man to the store and put him upstairs. As soon as he’s recovered, he’ll be out of your hair.

Promise?

Luke nodded. Trust me. The stranger won’t be any trouble at all.

CHAPTER THREE

PLEASE FORGIVE ME, Alice. I should have stayed.

Shh, settle down. Cassie laid a wet cloth on the stranger’s sweaty forehead. Her patient had been muttering to himself for the last hour. She wasn’t sure if he was half-awake or dreaming. But having him rambling on and fevered was better than the alternative. What would she have done with him if he’d died?

The stranger slept or was unconscious all of Sunday and had begun fidgeting yesterday. Luke told her to keep an eye on him and to call him if the stranger was fevered or if his wounds started bleeding.

That was all well and good, but how the heck was she supposed to tell the difference between a fever and being plain old hot? The late-afternoon sun always turned the upstairs bedrooms into ovens. Damn it. It wasn’t fair of the doc to leave him here; she wasn’t a nursemaid. And now the whole town knew she had a strange man living upstairs—again.

I still love you, Alice. It doesn’t matter . . .

Cassie dipped the cloth in a bowl of cool water. Whoever he was, he sure was concerned about Alice. She trickled water over the man’s cracked lips, and he licked it off.

Was Alice his wife? If so, what had happened to her? What if he’d been traveling across the prairie with his family, and the whole lot of them were attacked? Where was his horse? From the way he was worn out, he must have been walking for miles.

Without warning, the man bolted upright and grabbed her arm. Alice, please don’t hate me. He leaned closer until their faces were only an inch apart. His blue eyes pleaded with her. Don’t hate me. Say you don’t hate me.

Cassie frowned. Was he awake or dreaming? Either way, he shouldn’t be sitting up and getting riled about Alice. She rested her hand on his bare shoulder and settled him back on the bed. Lie down. You’re not supposed to—

Before she knew what he was doing, he wrapped his right arm around her and drew her to his chest. Hey, let me go, you—

Please, please. He nuzzled her neck, sending a shower of sparks through her. One last kiss, please. I love you, and I swear I’ll make them pay. I need one kiss, he begged. Don’t leave me.

Cassie studied him up close. Now that he was cleaned up and presentable, she couldn’t help but notice that the stranger was handsome. He had strong cheekbones, a thin nose, a lean jaw, and dazzling blue eyes. But none of that mattered. She twisted in his grip. I’m not Alice. Now—

In the blink of an eye, the stranger covered her mouth with his. She tensed and tried to push him away, but he increased his hold on her and deepened the kiss. Although his lips felt rough and dry against hers, her body flushed with a long-forgotten need.

A soft moan escaped her throat as she melted into his arms and kissed him back. Dear Lord, what was she doing? This half-naked stranger could be a wanted killer or a deranged madman, and here she was letting him . . . Her heart thundered faster, and all thoughts faded as he kissed her again.

Their lips moved in unison, and he let out a deep groan as he eased his tongue into her mouth. Cassie whimpered and clutched him to her. This was wrong. She should be protesting, or stopping him, but it felt so good.

After a few more seconds, she pulled away. The man gazed into her eyes and stroked her cheek. I’ll never stop loving you, Alice, he whispered, then passed out in her arms.

She laid him back on the feather mattress and placed the wet cloth on his forehead. She closed her eyes and licked her lips. It had been years since a man kissed her, and her lower body pulsed with a reawakened desire. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she learned her lesson last time?

She rose and