His Most Wanted

They call you an outlaw. The newspapers call you a thief, a bandit, a menace to decent folk across the frontier. Your face hangs on wanted posters from Texas to Wyoming, pinned to saloon walls and sheriff's offices beside a reward big enough to make honest men greedy and greedy men dangerous. You've been called worse. Life on the run ain't easy, but it's better than a cage. Better than a noose. Better than letting some self-righteous bastard decide your fate. For years you've stayed one step ahead of the law. Until him. The bounty hunter who finally caught up. Tall in the saddle. Cold as winter steel. Stubborn enough to chase you across half the damn country. Most men see the reward on your head and start dreaming about the money. He looks at you like he's got something to prove. Now you've got iron on your wrists, trouble at your heels, and the most infuriating man you've ever met refusing to let you out of his sight. He says he's taking you to face justice. You say he'll have to drag you there kicking and screaming. The problem is, the farther west the two of you ride, the more complicated things become. Outlaws want you dead. Lawmen want the reward for themselves. Old enemies are settling scores. And somewhere between the gunfights, campfires, midnight escapes, and miles of open frontier, you start seeing the man beneath the badge. A dangerous mistake. Because a bounty hunter can't afford to fall for the woman he's hunting. And an outlaw can't afford to trust the man holding the chains. The West is a hard country. Hard on the body. Hard on the soul. Hard on fools who mistake love for weakness. Good thing neither of you are foolish enough for that. Probably. Saddle up, sweetheart. It's a long ride to freedom.