My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) Read Online Free PDF

the equally black patent-leather shoes, he reeked of success. The dark broadcloth suit fit his physique like a second skin. There was a slight bulge beneath the red satin vest, and Anne-Marie surmised that the man was heavily armed. A brown cravat that matched the color of his eyes accentuated his flawless white shirt.
    The man grinned as he spotted Anne-Marie and the Indian huddled together on the dirty bunk.
    “Yes sir, that’s her all right. She’s the woman who stole Grandma Edna’s brooch and then took off like a scalded cat. She’s the one.”
    Striding over to the cell, the stranger pointed his bejeweled finger at Anne-Marie. “Thought you’d get away with it, did you, Sister? Well, I can promise you this, I’m not going to let you, you hear me? Now hand it over.”
    Wide-eyed, Anne-Marie backed deeper into the cell. She’d never seen this man before in her life, much less swindled him out of a brooch. “I… don’t have Edna’s… brooch—”
    “She’s lying. Sir, I insist you open that cell door and search this thieving wench. She stole my grandmammy’s brooch, and she’s not going to get away with it. I have my papers; I’m a free man and I refuse to be treated this way.”
    The man narrowed his eyes. “I am Cortes, and I will decide how you are to be treated. Now, Señor —what did you say your name was?”
    “John Quincy Adams, sir.”
    Cortes studied the dandified man. “John Quincy Adams?”
    “That is correct. My mother named me after the president. Now, here I was, showing the nice sister my dear ol’ grandmammy’s brooch—she’s dead now, God rest her sainted soul—the very brooch her dear sainted mammy had given her, when the sister, she says, ‘Oh, it’s so lovely, may I share its unusual beauty with Sister Louise, who is this minute buying flour and molasses in the mercantile?’ Well, like the fool I can be, I handed it to her and I says, ‘You and Sister take your time looking at the fine piece of jewelry while I go over and sit down under a tree and wait.’ And I wait and I wait for her to get back, but she never gets back. She up and disappears. Gone, vamoosed!”
    “I don’t know what this man is talking about. I haven’t stolen any brooch!” Anne-Marie’s fists balled into tight knots and the blood vessels in her temple throbbed. What was he babbling about? She hadn’t taken a brooch!
    Apparently John Quincy Adams had said all he intended to say on the subject. “Open the cell door, Cortes, and we’ll see who’s telling the truth.”
    “I do not know. Sheriff Goodman is across the street—”
    “Won’t take a minute to clear up the matter. All I want is my brooch back and I’ll be on my way.”
    “Well.” Cortes glanced out the window. “I will search her, but you’ll have to stand back and let me do it.”
    Adams nodded. “Fine with me. All I want is my brooch back.”
    “I don’t have his brooch!” Anne-Marie protested when the deputy slipped the key in the lock and opened the cell door.
    She gasped when she heard a sound thump. Cortes slumped to the floor, unconscious.
    “Now, you have youself a nice little snooze, Mr. Cortes,” the man said calmly.
    “What took you so long, Quincy?” Creed snapped when Adams handed him a pearl-handled pistol.
    “What took me so long? I’ve been trailing you from the minute you got involved with this woman—which, I might point out, was pretty reckless—and then when I saw you were in this fine mess, I had to go rustle up some clothes and come up with a plan to break you out.”
    “We don’t have time to discuss the merits of my decision,” Creed interrupted. Striding to the window, he said, “Ferris and Goodman are busy hammering nails into the scaffolding. Get us out of here.”
    Anne-Marie listened to the men’s exchange, her bewilderment growing. “Do you two know each other?”
    The men ignored her.
    “We’ll have to make a break for it,” Quincy said in a low tone, and it suddenly occurred