The Dick with No Name

Excerpt:

She stripped her buckskin jacket off and threw it over the chair, sliding her boots off and placing them under it. It took a while to peel the sticky leather britches from her sweaty legs, which were pink and flushed with the heat by the time she was done. She left her cotton undershirt on, same as her small cotton underthings. From the way the man's eyes followed her, he seemed the type who liked to tear things off. She undid her belt with her holstered gun still attached and slung it purposefully over the top corner of the chair. She took another pistol from her saddlebags and stuffed it under the mattress, just in case - no need to get careless, no matter how small the job. She busied herself with a book as the sun went down, and just as dark fell she blew out the candle by the bedside, slid under the covers, and waited.

It was late when he finally burst through the door, taking a few long steps before covering her mouth and holding her down. He kicked the door closed with a foot, not seeming to care how much noise he made. She didn't struggle, and he lit the candle with a match pulled from his boot.

He was impressive in size, even if his style was unrefined. He certainly wasn't subtle. His eyes were a dark brown, like molasses, set in a hard, square face. He grinned down at her.

“I'm surprised I've warranted the attention of someone as... famous as you, Cass Cassidy.”