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  Innocent as Sin

  The Innocents Mystery Series: Book Two

  C.A. Asbrey

  Innocent as Sin

  Copyright© 2018 C.A. Asbrey

  Cover Design C.A. Asbrey & Livia Reasoner

  Prairie Rose Publications

  www.prairierosepublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1721187959

  ISBN-10: 1721187952

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Chapter One

  Wyoming, 1869

  "Hands up!" barked Jake Conroy as his sapphire eyes scanned the room for risks and pitfalls.

  “We’re The Innocents. Everyone do as you're told and we’ll be out of here before you know it, folks. We never hurt bystanders. We just want the money.” The second man, wearing a black hat spoke with authority, and his adamantine eyes spoke of a man who would brook no opposition, not that anyone considered mounting any. Nat Quinn was backed up by some formidable fire power.

  One of the outlaws chewed tobacco, moving his mask to spit on the floor. He closed the last of the blinds to obstruct the scene from casual passersby while the bank staff were corralled into a corner and patted down for concealed weapons.

  Jake noted the heightened nerves of the manager whose color rose as he glanced toward the office with anxious eyes. The gunman didn't like nervous people. They tended to make rash decisions in the heat of the moment, and usually ended up doing something stupid. Despite the manager’s best efforts to look elsewhere, his gray eyes continued to dart toward the closed door.

  Jake Conroy strode over to the office door as he raised his gun and aimed it at the manager. "Is there somethin' I should know?” Jake’s steel-edged voice made the manager tremble even more. “Who’s in the office?”

  "Please. No. My fiancée is in there. Don't hurt her. I’m begging you."

  "A woman? Of course we ain't gonna hurt her." Nat’s glower underscored his indignation. "What kind of men do you think we are?"

  “You’re criminals.” A voice wavered from somewhere at the back of the room.

  “We’re The Innocents,” Nat said. “We’re thieves, not savages; she’ll be just fine.”

  “Ma'am?" Jake Conroy knocked at the door. "Come out with your hands up. This is a hold up. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you. We're gonna take the money and leave."

  They all stood listening to the sound of silence.

  “Ma'am." Jake’s voice underscored his determination, "either you come out, or we come in and get you. Move. Now!"

  They heard a scuffling movement on the floorboards before the doorknob turned and the door opened by inches.

  Nat and Jake stared at the petite, dark, curly-haired figure who emerged from the office.

  "Well." Jake sucked in a breath as Nat strode forward, trying to head off any gasps of recognition he might make.

  “Ma'am? What's your name?" Nat’s eyes narrowed as he examined her, drinking in the wide eyes and enticing generous mouth he knew so well. What name would she give today?

  “Abigail." She sounded uncertain as she spoke with a clear American accent. Did the gang make her nervous, or did her uncertainty stem from the possibility of being exposed as a liar?

  He nodded, a sardonic smile lifting the corners of his eyes. “Well, Abigail. Why don't you go over there and join your fiancée and keep your hands where we can see them?"

  She raised her hands under direction of his guiding gun barrel and walked over to join the bank staff forming a tight knot in the corner. Nat fixed on the extravagant diamond cluster on the third finger of her left hand. That ring was real; too real and too big to be part of a cover story.

  His certainty the bank manager had no idea of his fiancée’s real identity firmed in Nat’s mind as he watched the manager fret over her welfare at the hands of the outlaws. If he had known more about Abigail MacKay he'd know The Innocents had more to worry about from her than the other way around. Why would she lead an honest man on like that? Did she care for him? Had she been drawn in while working undercover? He felt a stab of—what? Jealousy? Regret? Irritation? He wasn’t sure. Nat arched a brow. "Quite a ring you got there, ma'am."

  Abigail glowered at him as real anger flared. "Don’t touch it. I’ll hunt you down myself if you dare to even try. It was Robert’s grandmother’s. It’s special."

  Laughter rippled through the robbers before one of them cackled at the manager. "That’s a wildcat you got there, mister. She looks like butter wouldn't melt, but—” Chuck dissolved in unsavory mirth.

  "No. It would sizzle." Nat snorted. "Keep your ring, lady. It isn't what we came for."

  The manager dropped his voice to a whisper. "Don’t be scared, darling. Stand behind me. I’ll look after you.".

  "I think the lady’ll be just fine, sir, as long as no one does anything stupid." Jake Conroy’s flat monotone betrayed no emotion.

  Nat glanced over to the safe at the back of the office before striding over behind the counter, each long step full of purpose, leaving his trusted lieutenant in charge.

  Nat’s dark eyes sparkled with humor, watching the manager’s nerves jangle while the woman observed with a cool detachment. She was noting every detail of the robbery unfolding in front of her. No change there, then; Abigail MacKay was still a Pinkerton, and never off duty.

  "Melvin, Chuck, take the men into the office and tie them up. Gag them tight." His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile concealed by the mask. "Leave her here for now."

  The manager blustered before Jake Conroy thrust his gun in his face. "Sir, your lady’ll join you in there soon enough. Be a gent and save her from being tied up any longer than necessary.”

  "Go ahead, Robert. I'll be fine." Abigail tried to calm him, her voice smooth and proud. "The Innocents don't hurt people. Just do as he says."

  The man’s doubtful eyes darted between Abigail and Jake Conroy, but he stood his ground. "I can't." He raised his chin in defiance and glared at Jake. "I'm staying with her."

  Jake nodded. “I respect your courage, sir, but I gotta insist. We got work to do and we don't need you hangin’ around."

  "Then she comes with us."

  The blue eyes hardened. "No, sir. She don't, and I’ll remind you, you're in no position to give the orders."

  "Robert, please. I’ll be fine."

  "What man would walk out of here and leave you with men like these?"

  "The man who's smart enough to make sure you all walk out of here in one piece.” Jake nodded to the outlaws standing behind the bank staff to step forward. “Now, you got a choice. You walk in that room, or two men drag you in there. Do you want to upset the lady, or do you want it all to be as civilized as possible?"

  "Why? Why keep her here?"

  Abigail closed her eyes and sighed before she spoke. "Because I think he recognizes me, Robert.”

  All eyes turned to the woman who stood in the corner with her hands still raised as someone let out an audible gasp.

  "My guess is he’s suspicious of a familiar face and needs to question me about it. Go, Robert. Once he realizes I'm a passenger from a train he once robbed, he’ll move on. I can tell he’s suspicious from the way he’s been staring at me. I made a bit of a fuss about not wanting any criminals to touch me when they helped me from the train, but they were perfect gentlemen. I’m sure it’ll be fine."

  "You didn’t tell me that," Robert said.

  "No, Robert. I didn’t. I don't like talkin
g about it. I may have made a bit of a fool of myself. Please let him ask what he needs to so I can join you. Don’t make this worse."

  Jake darted her a look laden with meaning. Trust her to talk her way out of this. "She's a smart lady, sir." He glanced at Abigail. "You guessed."

  “I saw you looking at me. I knew you couldn’t place me. Please, Robert, do as he says."

  Robert glowered at Jake. "If you hurt her—I swear I’ll find you and I'll kill you."

  Jake Conroy nodded. "Sir, if I hurt her, I'll deserve it. I’d do the same to a man who hurt anyone of mine. Now, go with Chuck and Melvin. I won't ask again.”

  The outlaws watched as the staff marched through to the manager’s office before the gunman strode over to Abigail and pulled down his mask to reveal the face she knew so well. Both Jake and Nat shared the same high cheekbones, but the uncle’s jaw was heavier and offset by almost boyish dishwater-blond tousled hair, where his nephew Nat’s hair tended to be straight brown with auburn highlights.

  “So? What the hell are you doin' here, Miss Abigail MacKay?" Jake’s hot breath burned into her cheek as he spoke, inches from her face now that they were alone. "Are you here for us? Who else is with you?"

  Her facade dropped, along with her hands, and she reverted to her own Scottish brogue, the American accent now gone. "I'm on my own. How could I know you were coming here? I was visiting Robert."

  A mirthless laugh slipped from his lips. "You got all kinds of ways of knowin’ things. What are you doin' here?"

  Her full mouth firmed into an obstinate line. "You can go to hell, Jake. You know I'll never tell you any details about any job I’m doing."

  He tilted his tousled head as his eyes narrowed. “Abi, we need assurances. There’s no truce, now. We ain’t on the same side this time. Don’t make this hard."

  She threw him a wide grin and leaned forward, propping herself up on her toes before she dropped a light kiss on his cheek. "We both know you don't have it in you. Look, I'm not here for you. Take the money and then leave me in the office with the rest of them. Just let me get on with my job and I’ll let you get on with yours. Then go. Leave here and don’t come back. It’s the best thing you can do."

  He shook his head in bemusement. "You're a Pinkerton. I can't trust you. You're the law."

  She flicked up an eyebrow. "That's rich. I was your prisoner for almost two weeks and I was left handcuffed to a door. I can’t trust you. Anyway, what have I ever done to you?"

  “As much as I'm prepared to allow, darlin'."

  "I'm not after you.” She shrugged. “You know me too well for me to try to bring you in. I’d be useless. I'm on another job."

  "I ain't sure about this. I need to speak to Nat. We can't trust you, Abi. This could be a trap."

  "I take it he's breaking into the safe.” She shook her head in reproach. "You need to take me into the office. Right now. I don't need any awkward questions from Robert."

  "Questions like what’s your real name? Why are you pretendin’ to be engaged?” Jake snickered. “Why have you got those handcuffs in your purse?" He threw her a wicked grin. "Or has he already enjoyed those?" He laughed as she colored from the neck up.

  “I'm not that type of woman," she hissed.

  "I know, more’s the pity. You’d be no more than a sweet memory to Nat if you were. As it is, you’re still a worry to me."

  "Jake, please? This matters. They can't suspect."

  "Then why didn't you disappear? There’s a window. I’ve seen you. You can break into almost anywhere. Why not get out of here?"

  "It's screwed shut and it has bars. It's a bank. I’m good with locks, but I can't shift screws with my bare fingers."

  They turned as a now-unmasked Nat walked back into the room, beige sackcloth heavy with loot thrown over his shoulder. His brown eyes burned over his chiseled cheekbones and his mouth firmed into an uncompromising line. “What are you doing here, Abi?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not here to stop your thieving ways, Mr. Quinn. I’m working, but I’m not interested in you. Not this time.”

  "Chuck and Melvin are tyin’ up the men," Jake said. “I’m gettin’ nowhere with her.”

  Nat nodded and indicated with his head toward the vault. "Abi, come with me. Now!"

  Outrage spread over her face. "I will not. I won't be ordered around."

  His eyes narrowed and he strode over and grasped her by the wrist. "I don't have time for this." He shouted through the door to the office as they passed. "Watch them. We’ll be out of here in a minute."

  Nat dragged her into a back room and thrust her against the wall, his intense eyes burning into hers. "Abi, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t deal with you. Right now."

  Indignation exploded over her expressive face. "You can't blame me because our paths cross in all innocence. You wouldn't look at me twice if you didn’t know my real identity. Anyway, what do you mean ‘deal with me’?"

  "There ain't much innocent about you, lady."

  “That’s rich, coming from you. I don’t have a reward on my head.” Her brow creased in surprise at his genuine anger. "Mr. Quinn, you said it yourself. I’m useless around you, you know me too well. If this was a trap, wouldn’t they get someone you can’t identify to do whatever it is you suspect me of? I could have disguised myself."

  He frowned. "You are damn good at that."

  "You didn't answer me. What do you mean? Just how are you going to deal with me?"

  Nat paused, ignoring her question. She was capable of avoiding being spotted with her skills. "What case are you working on?"

  Determined anger flashed across her face. "You know I'll never tell you that. Just leave it. Now, back to that threat to deal with me. What do you mean? I demand an explanation.”

  His dark eyes drifted over her lavender silk dress with lustrous pearls decorating her neck. “You look beautiful.” Nat smiled, watching her involuntary response flicker and glow as her breathing changed and her pupils dilated. Part of him had almost forgotten the glorious fire in her spirit, in particular, the sparks which flashed up his own bursts of exhilaration. He sighed. “Being a banker’s rich fiancée suits you better than a maid in a brothel. It’s been a long time. What, six or seven months?"

  “Seven. It was last November.” She gulped down the knot of emotion filtering through her voice. “Please, take me into the office and leave me there with the men. I have important work to do here. You go your way and I’ll go mine. People will be looking for you. Leave here and don’t come back to this area. ”

  "Work? How important?"

  "Life or death. Please. I don't care about your arrest at the moment." Her dark eyes stared into his. "You know I care more about crimes against the person than crimes to property. I'll never ask you for another favor, but I need to stay here, and I need to be credible. Please. It matters."

  He examined the woman he had seen in every mood, every shade of emotion from raging fever to masterful intellect. The concern looked real, but then, she was as good at acting as well as anyone gracing the stage. "Whose life or death?"

  She paused, her eyes darkening."I can't tell you that."

  "Who got killed?"

  "No one. Yet. I’m here to try to prevent it."

  His eyes bored into her as his concern grew. Abigail took risks he would never countenance, despite being more like him than anyone he’d ever met. "How dangerous is it?"

  "Less than a night with you.” Her grin filled with a lightness he wasn’t buying. “Shouldn’t you be making a break for freedom by now? You’ve robbed the bank. Get out of here.”

  His eyes swirled with unreconciled concern and annoyance. She had stepped all over his carefully planned robbery. "I'll leave you for now, but we need to talk." He nodded toward the engagement ring. "About quite a few things. Where are you staying?”

  "Mr. Quinn, I can't tell you that, either."

  The right side of his mouth slid into an uneven smile. Her determination not to get too close to h
im meant she always called him Mr. Quinn, but it never ceased to amuse him how much warmth seemed to infuse such a formal address.

  "Meet me, or I'll come back. You’ll be easy to find now that you're engaged. You’ve got ties." His eyebrows rose over provocative brown eyes.

  Her face flickered with—what? Excitement? Fear? Irritation? “I can't."

  "I mean it, Abi."

  "It’s far too dangerous. People will be looking for you. Leave here and don’t come back."

  "I'll take my chances. But if you want to play it that way, maybe you should come with me instead?"

  She dropped her head, knowing how determined he could be when he put his mind to it. "Fine. Just one meeting, then you leave me to get on with my job. Now, for heaven’s sake take me to the office and tie me up."

  His cheeks dimpled in feral delight. “If you insist, darlin’. If only I’d known you were intrigued by that. Think of the fun we might have had.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You never give up, do you?”

  His face dimpled. “I’ll go through any door that’s open, Abi. Nothing risqué, nothing gained.”

  “You’re incorrigible. I’m in the Bentwood Inn on Oak Road. I’ll be in the garden at nine o’clock on my own. There’s a summerhouse.” She walked over to the door. “I want a clean gag, and don’t tie me too tight. I’ll see you at about ten, after you’ve finished lurking about, checking to see if I’m really alone.” Abigail paused. “And be prepared to explain that ‘deal with you’ comment. You don’t get off so easy.”

  Chapter Two

  The heady scent of jasmine drifted on the warm night air as Abigail sat in the summer house at the end of the garden. The quaint, thatched, wooden affair was perfectly in keeping with the twee boarding house. The clapboard and carved wooden fascias were picked out in beige and brown until it looked like a giant gingerbread house. Mrs. MacPhee had a whimsical sense of the quaint, and barely a surface or furniture leg remained unmolested by the frills, doilies, or embroidered leg curtains which she imagined inhabited the fine homes of the East.