Excerpt of The Surrender of Lacy Morgan by Suzanne Ferrell

Her heart sank into her gut.

They’d found her.

She glanced around the shack. The only other exit was the window, from which the black-haired man stared in at her, then pointed to the door.

No escape. She straightened her shoulders and opened the door.

The curly-haired man filled her doorway, nearly blocking out the sun behind him. The other man joined him. Up close they appeared more handsome and more dangerous than they had riding through town. The white man’s face was all hard angles and deep lines, his eyes so blue they resembled shards of ice that hung from the trees in the winter, and they were just as cold. The duster hid most of his frame, but she’d guess he was whipcord lean, all sinewy muscle and strength.

The other man—his deeply tanned skin and high cheekbones spoke of mixed blood—stood just behind the first. His dark eyes scanned the surrounding area, but she knew without a doubt he was just as focused on her as his friend.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” She tried to sound as innocent as the town schoolmarm should. Not one quaver sounded in her voice.

The first man pulled back his duster to show a dented silver star attached to his shirt. “U.S. Marshals, ma’am. We’re looking for Lacy Morgan.”

His deep baritone rumbled over her senses like thunder threatening in the distant mountains. Every nerve in her body awoke, trying to find a way to flee the ensuing storm.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong person.” She tried to shut the door, only to have him shove it back toward her.

“Now, darlin’, I’m sure there aren’t two Lacys in this town.” He stepped inside, his friend following.

The already small room suddenly felt no bigger than a closet. The men seemed to swallow all the available air. Blue-eyes studied her from top to bottom, then pulled a paper from inside his duster.

“Tall, octoroon coloring, red hair, green eyes,” he read, then took a step closer, forcing her against the wall.

The reference to her octoroon heritage set the hairs on her neck on edge. Devil had loved her mother’s mixed blood. He’d craved more.

Were they truly lawmen? Or using their badges to track her down for another purpose? Had her stepfather sent them?

No matter what, she wasn’t letting these men return her to that hell she’d fled in the fall. “If you don’t leave this instant, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Scream for help?”

She should, but she doubted anyone would come to her aid. Beaver Run’s citizens didn’t get involved with other people’s problems.

She wished she’d answered the door with her Colt in hand. Instead it lay useless in the pile of her belongings. “I don’t know who Lacy Morgan is, and I’d like you to leave my home, now!”

Blue-eyes edged closer, trapping her against the room’s wood-slat wall, his big body mere inches from hers. Despite being tall for a woman, she was forced to lift her chin to see his face. A slow smile parted his lips, his white teeth slightly visible. He reached forward and unbuttoned her collar, one button at a time. Fear, certainly not this man’s physical nearness, made her heart jump into her throat and her belly clench down low.

“Stop it.” She batted at his hands.

“Hold still if you don’t want me to rip the damn shirt off you,” he ordered, grabbing one hand, then sliding his other hand over her throat, fingers catching in the links of gold pressed against her skin.

“And she always wears a choker of gold filigree chains.” He sniffed her hair. “Hello, Lacy Morgan. We’ve been searching a long time for you.”

Damn, she was truly trapped. She should’ve sold the necklace with Cesar, but it was the last thing her mother had ever given her, telling her, “The collar’s your inheritance. Never let it out of your sight, dearest.” And so she would die before parting with it.

Unfortunately, that might be her only choice.

She swallowed hard, her breasts rising and falling against Blue-eyes’ chest. Her nipples hardened at the contact. “What do you want with me?”

His hand remained on her throat, almost caressing her over the choker. “Simple, darlin’. I want you to take us to see Devil.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” He applied just a little pressure over her windpipe.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I haven’t seen him in six months.”

Blue-eyes leaned in closer, his tongue stroking her ear. “But you know where he’s hiding. Don’t you?”

His warm breath sent shivers of awareness over her body. Nodding, she swallowed hard. “If I tell you, he’ll kill me.”

“Darlin’,” Blue-eyes squeezed a little harder. “Make no mistake, I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

Her gaze jerked to his cold one. She didn’t doubt him for a moment. She inhaled again, this time feeling the stranger’s heat all the way down to the junction of her thighs. She couldn’t escape in this shack. Maybe she could give them a false lead and they’d leave her. If she could get out in the open country, all she needed was a few hours to escape.

“He sometimes winters in the Hole-in-the-Wall.”

Blue-eyes stared deep inside her. Was he reading her words for the lie they were? She forced herself to hold his gaze and willed her pulse to slow. She’d learned years ago to lie to save her skin.

“Okay. We’ll start our search there.” Keeping his hand on her throat, he glanced over his shoulder to Dark- eyes. “We’ll need another horse.”

The other man simply nodded, then left.

“You don’t need me,” she started to protest.

He seared her with his cool blue gaze once more, his hand, which had relaxed a bit, again pressing slightly tighter on her throat. “Darlin’, I didn’t ask you to talk.”