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.”