It was like taking a walk home again. The old buildings, the creaking and swaying in the wind made visible through the puffs and clouds of dust that rolled and faded away with each passing second reminded him of a life he once lived in a place not so different from this one. His boots were dirty and worn, his pants turned brown at the hem from the dust kicked up with every step he took. Either hand rested on the polished butt leading to a metal monstrosity designed to make taking a man?s life that much easier. Their weight was familiar and welcome, especially here under the pale light of the moon outside a bar he?d decided was holding onto a bit more coin that it should have a right to. Of course, the honorable thing to do would be to liberate it of this extra baggage and if he made a few dollars in the process, who was he to complain? It groaned and creaked like an old man in the morning. It was hollow and cold from the outside in, he couldn?t hear much beyond that.

It was enough.

He walked up to the door and tried it. Locked, of course, but it never hurt to try. Glenn was used to these little road bumps and had long ago figured out a way to get around them. Slowly he turned to round the side of the building, sizing it up and investigating the windows. There was no quiet way to do this. His arm lifted, fist tucking in toward his chest so he could lash out with his elbow and crack the glass of a window. He hit it again and it shattered. The glass was wiped away and he reached through the hole he?d made to search for a latch, flicking it free so he could lift the window up. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that he was still very much alone, save the faint shadow he cast upon the ground behind him.

Glenn wasn?t worried about the shadow. Where he was going it wouldn?t be able to follow.

With one hand still on his gun he jumped through the window. Pa? taught him never to enter a room without a hand on his gun. His boots echoed with more volume than he?d have liked when he landed, but some things just can?t be avoided. He stepped forward and crossed the room with a quick, confident stride. That gun popped free of its holster and he tried the comfortable weight in his hand for a moment, the tip of his finger brushing lovingly over the trigger. He was just any man most of the day, but a gun in his hands and he was like a god holding dominion over the lives of mortals. At least that?s how he felt. The tables and chairs were all that greeted him. Silent and lifeless like the bones in a graveyard, they looked on as he passed, motes of dust hovering in the air made visible by the beams of silver light the moon cast on the room. He stayed on the dark side, where his shadow was hidden and the black of his coat made him harder to see.

Old, cushioned stools stood in front of a bar and that poor road block was easily circumvented through a little break between one section and the next. It felt like a reunion with some old friends when he got back there, with bottle lined shelves holding bourbon, whiskey, scotch, rum and a whole selection of drinks that would make you blind. He dropped to a knee behind the bar and felt around underneath it for a key, sometimes these people liked to hide their keys up there, they thought no one knew. It might have worked if it was only one or two barkeeps who did it.

Nothing.

No matter, his gun was better than any key. The pair of shelves under the bar were home to all varieties of things. A book, a few empty bottles and some bowls, the usual. He placed a gloved hand on the bar and pulled himself to a stand, leaning forward to rest on his elbows for a moment as he thought. The door to the left he ignored, most places that would just lead to some supplies. His gaze followed the line of stairs upward and the corner of his mouth twitched. Before anything, though, he decided to impose on the hospitality of his host. With a twist Glenn turned to face the bar and grabbed a glass and set it down, then a bottle of scotch that he forced open with his teeth. Couldn?t let go of that gun, after all.

He let the cap hang between his lips as he poured himself a drink and then set the bottle down to cover it again and set it on the shelf. With the glass in hand he slipped through the break in the bar and crossed the room, trying a taste of the drink before beginning the climb up to the next floor. He took his sweet time, not every night he got a free drink. A few doors were seen and tried and yielded little in the way of results. He came upon another one and found it host to signs of life. He drained the glass of scotch in his hand and carefully set it down on the floor to the left before reaching up to curl a hand around the doorknob. His thumb pulled on the hammer of the six-shooter in hand.

Who is it?

Lips stretched in a wry grin. His finger slid over the trigger of the six-shooter, hugging it tenderly, and ready to blast away. Slowly, his grip loosed on the knob and he let her turn it for him and licked his lips in anticipation. He could smell her through the wood and boy did she smell like an easy break, a handful of dollars and little resistance were what he expected at Charlie?s tonight. He?d already ticked the drink off the checklist after all. She was leaning against the door and he didn?t fight her for that right, but spoke loud and strong for her to hear through the barricade of wood between them even as he leaned close.

?Don?t know who Laurice is,? Glenn grinned like a cat who at the canary. This would be easy. ?Name?s Wyatt,? it belonged to a snake he killed a year or two back. He shot the bastard in the gut and left him for dead under a tree in winter after stealing his horse, his money and his wife. The bastard.

?I?m from the Watch, ma?am. You got a broken window downstairs and I came to investigate. Why don?t you let me in, ma?am? Looks like you?ve got yourself a break in, need to make sure nothing?s missing.?

He had the gun. She could buy the lie or she couldn?t, Glenn had long ago made peace with shooting women as well as men.

Without the door they?d be nose-to-nose, breathing in each other?s breath with matching gazes of steely, confident blue. He might have seen her through the door with all the intensity of his gaze, there might have been a wisp of smoke rising. He took a deep breath, his foot slid across the floor to edge the glass farther out of the way. It had served him well and letting it break would be a poor way of showing thanks, right?

He stepped back, his feet deliberately heavy so she?d be able to hear him as he brought the gun up to hip-height and aimed at the door to grin like a mad man at the woman on the other side. This was the kind of thrill he lived for. It was this, warm women, shooting a man face-to-face, good drinks and easy money.

?Aww, honey, that just isn?t true,? he laughed and stepped forward. The barrel of his gun flicked aside in a silent signal that she best start moving out of the way before bullets started flying. ?I don?t like liars, you know, ironic as that sounds. Especially when it?s a woman who?s spinnin? falses, but I?ll let you off the hook just this once if you do me two,? his hand lifted, two fingers pointed skyward, ?favors.?

The blue of his eyes drank in the sight displayed. The door had lied to him, too, the rat bastard. His face was lit up with the wicked twist of a grin. If he smiled it could have been handsome if he wasn?t so busy robbing and threatening her with more than a shot in the arm.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face from temple to cheek. Glenn could smell and taste it but even more so, there was hers. Maybe there was something in the water but he was sure that the rushing in the background was the blood pumping from her heart and back, he heard it evening out and knew intimidation wouldn?t get him terribly farther unless he acted quickly.

?You play nice now, ma?am, and I won?t have to put a bullet in you. God knows we don?t want that, do we??

He could smell her fear and taste it in the air, it was sweeter than any candy and went down smoother than the scotch he?d helped himself to just a moment before even if it was a fleeting thing. ?First,? one finger this time. ?You?re gonna tell me where all the real money is, I didn?t go through all this trouble for a fistful of cash, do I look like a school bully to you??

Glenn amused himself and let her know with a loud laugh that displayed the pearly whites of his teeth.

?Second, you?re gonna gimme a name to go with that pretty face and a phone number and who knows, if you smile nice enough I might just leave with that instead. What do you say, sweetheart?? he held up two fingers and his grip seemed to loosen on the gun just slightly, though the way he held himself she?d be a fool to think he couldn?t whip it up and let off a few shots before she finished stepping forward. He?d been killing people since his old man left him to look after his mother and sister during a war he couldn?t remember the cause of. Hell, he wasn?t even sure what side he was supposed to be on.

The gloom was lit up with a flash, the radio drowned out by the echoing bang of a gunshot. The barrel smoked and a slug dug itself neatly into the boards between her feet.

He laughed again.

?You?d probably lie anyways.?

He stared at her long and hard as she answered him, his eyes eager to drink in the sight. There was something off about what she was telling him, though he couldn?t place his finger on it. One way or the other he was getting what he came for, though, and she was going to help whether she liked it or not. He took a step forward and drew in a breath. She reminded him of a place far away, a life with just a little more danger and a lot more substance, a life lost in a hail of shouting and gunfire.

Dust blew on the wind and danced in the currents of the air, falling to wipe away the stains of blood on the beaten path that went through town. Buildings and wagons leaned to one side or the other, husks of their former lives, dead or dying, decaying or rotten. That?s what storms would do to a town in the middle of nowhere and Glenn was one furious blast of thunder.

?Annie,? he tried the name. It didn?t sit well with him. She was probably lying. Glenn offered a wide, toothy grin and clucked his tongue as he took a step forward. ?You have a face that makes me think twice about taking everything out from under you, but a man has to make a living the only way he knows how, don?t he? You understand. Right, sweetheart??

Without waiting he lifted a gun and his smile died away, replaced by cold indifference. ?Now be a dear, Annie, and go and open that safe for me nice and slow. Wouldn?t want any sudden movements, you know, I?m a bit jumpy tonight.

Glenn followed her with eyes first, feet second. There was something in the sway of those hips, provocative, challenging. They seemed absent of a familiar weight and whether it was a man?s hands or the heft of metal, he couldn?t say. He liked to think of the former but the realist in him said it was the latter. He knew the feeling, that ache of absence; that need for the familiar weight within reach. He?d been in her spot before, with a gun on him and his hips bare of any kind of defense. It was the worst feeling in the world, or one of them. Just under his Pa?s disappointed gaze when he first realized what a terrible sun he?d raised. Briefly, he let his gaze drift away to dart about the room and he wondered how many nooks could be used to hide a gun. It snapped back to her when that voice filled the room and him with the warm thrill of impending victory. It didn?t hurt that she was more pleasant to look upon than some of the women he?d robbed. It would keep him in a less violent mood at the very least.

?Why here?? he echoed with a tone that suggested her question held more weight with him than it should have. He gave it some thought.

?Some places are just aching to be broken into. It looked boring, like you needed some excitement in your life. What do you say, Annie?? his grin returned, wicked and amused. ?You getting that thrill you need now? Or is there something else I can help you with??

Naturally, he wasn?t very pleased to hear the cries from below and all humor died away faster than her comeback. He stared long and hard at her even when she insinuated herself between him and the safe, the gun held firmly against her spine as she fiddled with the dial. It was a treat to be this close despite how close this was about to get. He needed a smooth getaway as fast as he could get one, but that didn?t stop him from leaning forward just a bit and inhaling the smell of a woman with no small amount of delight. ?Your friends are nosy,? he whispered, his voice carried easily through the short space between lips and her ear. ?Best tell them to run along before someone gets hurt.?

He reached past her with that empty hand, scarred from numerous fights, and grabbed whatever he could to start stuffing it into his coat pockets while the barrel of his gun pressed against her skin beneath the thin material of her shirt. ?You?re gonna be nice and quiet for a minute now, Madison and you?re gonna go and tell this friend of yours that everything is fine, or I?ll be forced to start getting violent. Do you understand me?? he flashed her a wink and stepped back. ?Go on now, nice and slow. You see to that friend of yours.?

Already his mind raced. Window. He judged the distance and figured he?d be able to land it without breaking anything, the trick was getting out. He?d have to get Madison out of the room, but with a gun in his hand that wouldn?t be terribly difficult. It would be a shame; he was enjoying their little back and forth. But everything came to its end sometime, right? He took in another breath and allowed himself to be reminded of that sweet and salty scent of curiosity and fear, the familiarity of a life once lived, and then he started to back toward the window with a pocket full of money and eyes glittering with the pleasure of victory.

?You be good now, Madison. Keep an eye out for me, yeah? Think I might come pay you another visit sometime real soon.?

It was too late to shoot her; the chair was already flying through the air. His grin died again and he turned, lifting an arm to shield his face. The coat took the worst of the damage, but he sure did stumble back toward the wall a few steps. This just put him closer to the window, though. He lowered his arm and sneered at her, firing the gun once in her general direction to scare her off. He might not have had murder in his face at first, but something about having a chair thrown at you really persuaded you to think twice about how generous you?re going to be. Instead of killing her, his foot lifted and he kicked, hard as can be. The heel of his boot caught the edge of her desk and with a loud scrape it went sliding across the room at the kneeling woman. He lashed out with the gun, not at her but at the window behind him. Glass shattered and exploded around him. No doubt her friend downstairs was now very concerned.

?I?ll be back for your number soon, Madison. Best tidy up before then.?

Glenn didn?t wait to greet him, but turned and climbed out to fall a short distance to the dusty ground behind Charlie?s with a heavy thud and a loud grunt. He stood was walked briskly away, wiping glass, dust and wood-splinters from his arms before breaking off into a run. His shadow hurried behind him but where he was going it wouldn?t be able to come. It was eaten up by the dark places where criminals like him made their rest, the shadows behind old buildings and in moldy basements filled with the bones of the innocent. He shared a laugh with a murderer and a con man, then he shared a bullet with both and made off like the bandit he was.

Turns out he did have murder in his face, Madison just hadn?t recognized it.

It looked a lot like the saloon in York. Back there they just called it the saloon but the one in front of him was called The Ugly Piper. It was larger than the place he?d robbed a few nights back, larger and louder, but that was to be expected given the hour. The sun was making its slow descent to hide behind the horizon and it cast a hellishly orange glow on the town, making the dust that whipped through the air seem more akin to wisps of fire. It was hot but the wind kept things relatively cool. Even so, he was more than happy to shrug out of his coat as he climbed those wooden steps that led up to the short, curved porch deck that hugged the bar like a horse shoe. To the right a handful of men leaned against an old wooden series of beams and rails, smoking cigarettes and talking about the events of the day. Just past them was a door that led into the bar itself, standing ajar to let more of that pleasant breeze come flowing through.

A handful of windows dotted the walls all along the length of the first floor. Two straddled the double doors that swung inward with an easy shove as he stepped in. He paused there to hang his coat on a hook by the door and then tossed a glance around the noisy establishment. Hugging the left wall and going up was a staircase that stopped at a landing, then hooked right and went up to a balcony that went the length of the building and was host to a few rooms. Tucked in a corner was an old piano, but you can bet that once upon a time a man in a red vest sat there playing the harpsichord to entertain patrons. The room was dominated by a sea of tables and chairs, with only one short wall dedicated to newer booths. The right wall was taken up by the length of an old, polished bar where a pair of tenders stood, serving drinks to those patrons who sat on the stools in attendance. Farther past the bar was another door leading out behind the Piper and to the right of that yet another one that opened into the back room where the occasional poker game was hosted.

It was like taking a step back in time. It was like being transported to a place where the girls all wore blouses, the men toted six shooters and cowboy hats and the hitching posts outside were bound to rows of bays and paint horses stomping and pawing impatiently at the ground. Drunken fights were still common, at least, and the proprietors were probably quite happy that they didn?t have to deal with a traditional duel out front anymore.

He remembered his first duel. Some fellow named Colt got it in his head that Glenn owed him for some crime he didn?t commit, challenged him to an old fashioned shootout. Glenn put four bullets in him before they ever got into the road.

Glenn didn?t see the point in dueling.

He took in a deep breath and savored the smell of wood and alcohol. It was warm inside, too, but not unbearably. He walked between the rays of light that came streaming in from the windows, his shadow cut to pieces by the crisscrossing lines of window panes as they cast their image on the ground under his feet. Glenn?s hand rested easily on the butt of a gun at his hip, the other rose to fall on the bar with a few bills left in its place as he nodded to the man present and ticked a brow upward.

?Gimme a bottle of whiskey, yeah?? blue eyes darted left and right to the men who flanked him, he flashed both a toothy grin and stepped back as his glass and bottle were delivered. The bottle he tucked under his arm, the glass taken in hand. The second hand never left his gun. He gave the man a mock toast and turned to survey the room with a bright gaze.

?Won?t be long now,? he murmured, his voice lost under the roar of words and laughter from the other patrons.

On the radio...

The smell of rain filled the air. He was tempted to join the thunder and lightning in their dance out in the streets, to let the fall of water pour over him. It would wipe away the sweat and the dirt; it would hide the smell of blood and gunpowder that clung to him every second of every day. The showers would roar against roofs, splashing into large, muddy puddles to mask regret and anger. He could run away from his shadow out there in the gloom, the moon hidden by the thick, dark clouds that rolled ominously overhead. Only one thing stopped him.

He couldn?t count the stars.

Instead he listened to the sounds of movement and cracked a small grin at the bawdy jokes he overheard here and there. It was only the hairs that stood on the back of his neck that let him know something was amiss. The blue of his eyes was dulled when he turned to look over his shoulder at the table occupied by Madison and her friend, but when he caught her gaze with his own it lit up like a brilliant flash of lightning and that arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. She saw him, he knew it. She recognized him even after that nasty bump on the head. His mind went back to that night, the electrifying tension, the thrill. It was a shame they had to part on such unfriendly terms. Pa? always said it was the mark of a generous soul to give a man a second chance, maybe she was one such woman?

Glenn laughed.

?Well I?ll be?? he whispered to himself after tasting a mouthful of whiskey. He tossed her a wink as he stood from the chair he?d taken to sitting in. The bottle was lifted to be tucked under his arm and the glass scraped into his grip as he stepped past a stumbling drunk and approached with amusement flashing in his eyes. Without asking, he set his glass and his bottle down across from Madison and kicked out a chair to take a seat in. He sat there in silence for a moment, tossing her puzzled friend a smirk. His thumb brushed over the grip of his gun, fingers curling beneath the table. She might have held a grudge, after all.

?If it isn?t Madison,? he greeted, leaning across the table to look her in the eye. ?Never got to thank you for the drink.?

?Shoot,? he drawled, grinning. ?Where are my manners?? he held a hand out to Brentan for a shake. ?That?s right. Wyatt. Glenn Wyatt. Pleasure to be makin? your acquaintance,? that hand was stained red. It had taken more lives than it had saved. He scraped his glass off the table and drained the whiskey in one go, letting it fall haphazardly back to the wood with an echoing clink and thud. He breathed in through his nose and he smelled the tension that coiled tight in her gut. He was getting to her and he knew it.

Glenn clucked his tongue as his brows raised toward Madison. ?So, Rye,? he let her know that he had her name. ?What brings you and your friend to this little corner of paradise? Come to pay ol? Glenn a visit, or you takin? me up on that offer from the other night? Bet I got some paper somewhere I can take a number down on.?

Arrogant? Perhaps. Maybe he was just pushing, seeing what she?d give before she decided it was enough. Most folks complied well enough with a man who had a gun but she?d given him more resistance than they, and in that she?d gone and marked herself as a person of interest, more than a pretty face worthy of a late night calling and a good screw, not that he?d mind that either. His fingers drummed against the bar as he held her gaze with his own, challenging her with the unwavering tenacity of his stare.

Come on, little Madi Rye; let?s see what you?re made of.

Can you stomach it? Your pride gonna get the better of you?

Brentan didn?t know it, but Glenn?s thumb pulled back on the hammer of his gun. It just took a little angling and then a twitch would be all it took to put a bullet in his gut. Under the table it was all threats and business, it was danger. Life and death were on the balance, held by the thread of tension that threatened to snap at any moment and Glenn was just tweaking it a little further to move things along. He was not a patient man.

That was something else his Pa? didn?t like about him.

?What do you say??

Give me a reason.

He just laughed and leaned a little bit closer, grabbing that offered glass and lifting it to his lips. His eyes danced. There wasn?t fury. No rage. No indignation. This was a game to him and she just had the upper hand for a turn or two, he was alright with that. You win some you lose some. Glenn set the glass down and wiped the corner of his mouth with a thumb, scraping it through the rough whiskers of his beard. He clucked his tongue and shook his head, his knee pressing forward against the barrel of that gun as though to dare her. One shot and her buddy would be a heap of mess.

Give me a reason.

?Now, there?s no need to get tetchy, Madison. That was just strictly business, I was short on money, you see. And folks in my line of work don?t have many options. Better you than some fool who would only end up getting himself shot, right?? he flashed Brentan a grin. ?Go on, son. Tell her.?

Tell her.

What did he want to say next? That he felt her in a way this idiot next to her couldn?t? That he understood more than anyone else. He knew that feeling. The need to get away, the way it kept clawing you back in. It was something he gave up on a long time ago. He knew his lot in life, his stars had chosen, the angels ushered him along as his dear Mother would say. Violence was the way of things for men and women like him and Madison, there was no real way out short of going six feet under and as much as he regretted his decisions, as much as he was possessed of self-loathing and anger, he wasn?t quite ready to give up on living yet.

?Why don?t you put that piece away before someone gets hurt, Madison? You?ll shatter my knee and I?ll never walk again, but your boy here will die and you just might go down with him. Either way, I?m not living life as a cripple so I?ll be too dead to give a rat?s ass how sad and guilty you feel for getting another man killed,? he took another sip of the whiskey and tossed her a wink as he leaned forward again to whisper. ?And we both know you?ve gotten plenty of men killed, haven?t you? That?s what people like us do. We kill; we get others to die for us, for some cause. We say it?s alright and that it?s just part of the life but we still hate losing our friends.?

?So what?s it gonna be? You willing to lose another over a few hundred dollars??

Let me in. It?s not so bad. There?s a part of you that wants to. A part of you that you thought was dead. Looks like you were wrong about that, too.

Amusement flickered and died. There was something unsettling about the way he matched her gaze as she held that glass up to his throat. He licked his lips and slowly, his chair began to scoot back. Then his foot rose and with a hard slam, kicked up at her arm to knock the barrel of business away from his knee. Couldn?t make a get away without a kneecap, after all. His empty hand rose and slapped her arm away and Brentan was forced to jump and duck aside as the table was lifted up and thrown to the side like a toy. His gun was free then and as his foot stomped forward and then tugged back. In one fell swoop the chair tumbled back and spilled the pretty woman on the floor for all to see. He climbed over her, leaning down to press his gun against her gut.

They were face-to-face again; he could taste the whiskey on her breath. He could feel the warmth of it on his lips and he grinned again as he pressed down, chest to chest. His words were barely more than a whisper but they sounded louder than the thunder that stormed outside. The room had gone quiet, all eyes were on them but they might as well have been alone in this moment of twisted, violent intimacy. He shook visibly with excitement, thrilling at the intensity, the speed, the action and the heat of a body so close to this.

More than that though, it was her soul he craved. He knew it well, the forlorn spirit of one who had lived more times than she cared to count. It was like an old lover returning home. It was sweet. It was scalding. It demanded more.

?Now, that ain?t kind or hospitable of you, considerin? how nice I?ve been,? he wondered what she tasted like. This was just a teaser. ?I coulda shot you dead the other night; I coulda had my way with you. I coulda been a right terrible person, but I left you in one piece. Only reason you got hurt was ?cause you were foolish enough to do somethin? stupid.?

He inhaled, his voice trembling with excitement, his eyes bright and wet, glossy as though he were some addict getting his fix. ?Madison Rye. You?re gonna learn to be a lot nicer to me. You?re gonna learn to like me. You ain?t got a choice.?

?We?re one and the same.?

Let her shake, he thought. Come on. Tremble. Rock. Groan. Get angry or sad. Give in. Glenn knew what she craved, even if she wasn?t willing to admit it to herself. He could feel it in the rise and fall of her chest against his, see it in her eyes. They were made for each other, or so he figured. Two halves to make a whole. Her light to his dark, good and evil, redemption and shame. They were made for each other and he was here to stay. Unless someone shot him, first. There was always the chance of getting shot. Their audience was disappointed, a few muttered under their breaths as Madison pushed him away without conviction. He smirked and rose. His gun slid back into the snug grip of its holster as his gaze flashed down at her and she began to stand. Try and she might, the past was something you could never truly escape. Maybe Glenn was that past come a?calling to make her answer for her sins. Maybe he was just a bastard with a bastard?s grin who liked stirring up trouble. Either way, she had him and boy was he stubborn as a mule when he wanted something that didn?t want to be got.

?You keep an eye out ?round town, angel,? his words were heavy with self-control, measured, even. They might have been calm were it not for the storm that raged between him. ?Lord knows you?ll be seeing me again. Might be next time you welcome me with open arms, yeah??

He flicked a wink at her; let his gaze rake one last time up and down the length of her body like a butcher sizing up his meat. All he?d need was a cleaver. Instead he had those old Dragoons strapped to his hips, his hands resting on either one with easy confidence. Glenn began to turn, well aware that he was giving her every opportunity to shoot him. Maybe her friend would do it for her; maybe one of the drunkards would throw a bottle at his head. Hell, maybe he?d trip and fall out in the mid and break his neck. Life was full of maybes and he wasn?t about to start questioning them now. Let her shoot. Let her not, it made no matter to him. He still won.

Besides, Mother always said the angels were sent here to protect, not to kill.

His coat was in hand when she climbed onto her soap box to start preaching. He paused, turning as he pulled the sleeves over his arms and tugged the collar. His hands lowered to smooth out the wrinkles and came back up, thumbs hooking into his belt near enough the guns to suggest that he might be willing to drop more than few souls off on death?s door this night, for those who could spot such a meaning in a simple stance. Outside the thunder boomed distant and the rain seemed quieter. It was hotter than he remembered it being, but maybe that was just the jacket. The corner of his mouth twitched up where a small scar was curled from his lip to his chin, hidden by the dark whiskers of his beard. He licked his lips, clucked his tongue and took a step forward.

Glenn?s gaze cut a deadly line to those who whispered for death and called for blood. They could be damn sure he?d kill every one of them before going down, if it came to that. He wasn?t afraid of death but was a fighter by nature. Put a gun in his gut and he?d clock you one before going down, that was just the way of things. One by one the gazes that drifted toward him were swept away, called in by Madison?s words or scared off by the promise in his own brilliant eyes. His lips parted to suck in a breath of air. He exhaled loudly and tilted his head to the side as he looked up at Madison, eyes arching with a bemused question cast to his expression.

Careful, Madison Rye. Might be biting off more than you can chew.

?Maybe it?s you that needs to do the provin?,? he suggested. These words rang hollow in the hearts and minds of those around him. Some snickered; some smirked, and most rolled their eyes. ?Here I come, guns hot and ready and there you are actin? like you ain?t never harmed a soul in your life. You?re lyin? to yourself, Madison Rye. You?re lyin? to me, to your friend and these fine folk. You?re pretendin? to be somethin? you?re not. Peace ain?t a part of your life, might be that?s why the stars sent me this way. Might be I?m fate knockin? on your door to remind you of who you?re supposed to be.?

?Lemme ask you somethin?,? he paused, rubbing his jaw as he glanced down as though he were deep in thought. Then he looked back up, his lips spread in a wide grin. ?How come you didn?t shoot me??

?Cause you?re an angel.

Once upon a time Glenn wouldn?t have thought twice about shooting a man dead for daring to draw on him. Once upon a time?

It didn?t matter that there was a room full of angry folks with iron in their hands, ready to fill him with a belly full of lead. Not a one mattered. It was just the man who spoke first, the man who got an eyeful of Glenn?s hate in a single glance. He?d come back for him in the dark of night and he?d cut him a grin from ear-to-ear to go with a name like ?Happy,? make no mistake. Glenn had his number now; it was just a matter of time. His head tilted back and he met Madison?s gaze again with his own and flashed a wry grin as he stepped back to give her room to land. His hands had slid back to rest more securely on his guns, the polished wood warm to the touch. He turned and faced the door like a man walking to his grave and took a step forward.

?No need to get ornery,? he assured the man known as Happy. ?I?m getting?,? the doors opened to a flash of lightning and the roar of thunder and rainfall. He breathed in the moist air with a sigh and stepped out onto the dark porch, lit only by the deceptively warm light that spilled from the windows. There he met the dark like an old friend, glad to be rid of his shadow again. He stepped out from under the awnings and into the rain to let it shower over him, his hair went wet and fell to his eyes but he grinned like a child at Christmas time. This was what it was all about. The moments of clarity, the connection to all things physical. It was just missing one small piece to make it perfect.

He turned to look over his shoulder. His eyes seemed to glow with every bolt of lightning that arced through the sky overhead. They settled on the door and they watched, waiting for the silhouette of Madison Rye to make its appearance. He half expected a halo and a set of wings, but the more rational part of his mind said that he was just being foolish now. He didn?t mind waiting. Not there, not in the rain. Maybe Happy was right. Maybe the water would wash away the dark, would cleanse him of his sins.

Probably not.

He wondered briefly if an angel could exist when the stars were hiding away. He?d find out someday.

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