She wanted to protect him, but he had to know.
“Regina? What aren’t you telling me?”
Darn near bursting into sobs, she confessed, “Everything!”
She wasn’t telling him her feelings. She wasn’t telling him how nice a future with him sounded, even if they weren’t sure on the details. She wasn’t telling him about how, when he’d mentioned having kids, her mind had suddenly conjured up the image of a little black-haired boy with his daddy’s eyes, and how her heart had clenched with a fierce longing.
And she wasn’t telling him about the rumor she’d heard from Finnie that morning.
But she needed to tell him, didn’t she?
Hart always knew what to do. He pulled her forward once more, whispering calming words as he stroked her back and head, until the grief and guilt passed, and she was able to breathe normally once more.
“Why don’t you just start with the simplest bits first?” he prompted once she had settled down.
She took a deep breath and nodded. He was right. Although it was a perfect day under a perfect sky, this wasn’t the time for her to confess her feelings. She needed to tell him what she’d learned first. His reaction to that would determine their future, good or bad.
“I visited Cinco and Marshal Diamon this morning.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Good.” She paused, then decided that wasn’t exactly the truth. “Well, better at least. You know the bullet passed through his shoulder. He might not have full use of that arm again, but for now, it’s the blood loss and infection that’s most dangerous. He’ll be weak for a while, but Finnie is taking good care of him.”
When Hart hummed, Regina felt it almost to her toes.
She took a deep breath. “Finnie told me about a rumor she’d heard from a miner, who’d heard it from McAuliffe over at the Three Queens.”
She paused, unsure how to say what she needed to. When his arms tightened around her, she simply blurted it out.
“The Black Ace is going to finish what he started. Tonight.”
Hart’s gentle strokes on her back halted as he froze. “Finish what he started?”
“With the Marshal.” Her voice broke as she forced herself to tell him the rest. “Tonight, the Black Ace is going to sneak into the Marshal’s room and murder him.”
Hart whispered a vicious curse and pulled away from her. “Murder him? The Marshal? Why? So he can’t track me down, I guess?”
He cursed again and began pacing. “I can’t believe anyone would think that! Who would start a rumor like that? I mean, it’s a lie and—”
When he stopped suddenly and turned to her, his topaz eyes wide, she knew he understood, and nodded in confirmation.
“King,” he hissed. “King shot Diamon in the first place, and is going back to finish him off tonight.”
That wasn’t the worst of it.
“Not only that…” she prompted in a whisper.
“But he’s telling people about it ahead of time! He’s bragging about what he’s intending to do!” Hart finished.
“No, Hart.” Regina stepped towards him, arms outstretched, but dropped them before she reached him, not sure what she should do. “No, he’s telling everyone about it ahead of time because he wants the real Black Ace to find out. He wants you to find out.”
Hart’s eyes went wide again. “A trap?”
She nodded. King was setting a trap, and using the Marshal as bait.
Hart nodded firmly and turned on his heel. When he took off for the house, Regina yanked up her skirt and started after him, in a weird mirror of their earlier race. “Hart! What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to check on my gear,” was all he called back over his shoulder.
“No!” She lunged for him, snagging his arm and pulling him around as he’d done to her. “No, Hart! It’s a trap! You know it’s a trap, I know it’s a trap— You can’t go!” She felt the panic clawing its way up her throat. “They’ll be waiting for you.”
“Yep,” was all he said before pulling away from her once more.
“Hart!” She started after him. “You’ll be hurt, or worse!”
He whirled on her. “And if I don’t go, Regina? What then?”
She was breathing heavily, but she forced down her panic and watched his expression. “Then you’ll stay here, safe and sound.”
“Yeah, and the Marshal—a good, innocent man—will die. Don’t you see, Regina? If I do nothing, then King wins. If I go in there to stop him, maybe I die, but maybe I don’t, and Diamon is safe.”
“But— But…”
He shook his head and reached for her. When he pulled her closer, there was nothing comforting about his hold. His lips crushed down on hers with a savagery that made her wonder if he was saying goodbye.
When he pulled back, she went with him, unwilling to stop their kiss. She kissed him with all the pent-up feelings she’d been hiding, everything she was too unsure about to confess. And when his lips softened, she knew he’d understood.
Finally, he pressed his forehead to hers, breathing heavily. “You’re my queen, Regina. I love you, never forget that,” he said in a harsh whisper. Then he straightened. “But if I don’t do what I can to save Diamon, I won’t be able to live with myself. I wouldn’t ask you to consider a future with a man who let another man die when he—I—was in a position to save him. I’ve gotta do this, Regina, not just because I’m the Black Ace, but because I’m not a bad guy.”
Then he turned on his heel and stalked for the house once more.
Regina sank to the ground and bit down hard on her knuckle to stifle the sobs. Hart was right. He was right, damn him. He was a good man—the best of men—and she should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to stand by if an innocent man’s life was in danger.
That’s who he was. Who he’d been for so long. That’s who she loved.
But as she watched from her vantage point as he headed for the barn, she knew the truth: She couldn’t admit her love for him until she knew he had a future to look forward to.
Nine
Whatever the next few minutes held, the plan was the same as it always was: Don’t die.
Pony’s voice in the back of his head was just as clear as day: And don’t do anything stupid.
Stupid? Hell, just being here was probably stupid.
He hadn’t expected to be wearing this get-up again. In fact, Pony had given him a good glare when he’d pulled his Black Ace outfit out of the bottom of the trunk. The last time he’d worn the black duster and bandana, he’d ended up with Regina on his lap.
A good memory, but one he figured was in the past.
But sitting here on the black gelding he only took into town for his midnight adventures, he couldn’t regret it. He’d promised Pony, he’d promised Regina—hell, he’d promised himself—that he was done being the Ace, but if there was any chance Diamon was going to be ambushed again, Hart owed it to him to try to stop it.
Taking a deep breath, he slid out of the saddle and left the gelding in the back alley, knowing the well-trained horse would stay there until he returned or heard Hart’s whistle. Hart himself crouched in the shadows of a porch overhang and stared at the street.
Nothing. No movement. King’s sentries weren’t even out there, like Stilton had been last time.
Was it because they were all closing in on Diamon, who was helplessly laid up in the upstairs of the High Stakes? Or because they were all hidden, ready to set a trap for the Black Ace?
It didn’t matter. He had to go in there, one way or the other.
Satisfied there wasn’t any immediate danger, Hart backed away and moved around to the rear of the saloon, where there was a staircase leading up to the upper floor. He slithered up it, then reached up to grab the eaves. But whereas last time he’d been the Ace, he’d hoisted himself up onto the roof, this time he jammed the toes of his boots into the small ledge under a set of windows and shuffled sideways as quietly as he could towards a small b
alcony. Knowing which room was Finnie’s and which room she’d put the boy in, Hart guessed the room he was headed for was where Diamon was convalescing.
When he reached the balcony, he dropped to the floor with a light grunt he couldn’t contain and froze for a moment. When he heard nothing, he allowed his breathing to return to normal and turned towards the door.
It was unlocked.
A good sign, or a bad one?
He was in the process of pushing it open when he saw a sliver of light and heard the cock of a rifle.
He froze again, halfway into the room, his eyes flicking from the sleeping man on the bed—his eyes closed and his chest rising and lowering peacefully—to the candle on his bedside, to the rifle pointed at his own head.
Then the gun lowered, revealing a stricken-looking Finnie.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed in a frantic whisper. “Get out of here!”
Hart’s gaze darted back towards Diamon.
“He’s fine,” she hissed again. “I’m protecting him, in case the rumor is true. But you need to get your butt out of here, Ace! Didn’t think you’d be fool enough to fall for this trap.”
Maybe it was because Finnie always seemed so level-headed. Maybe it was because he knew her as a friend, but she was calling him the Black Ace right now. Either way, her panic affected him, and he found himself stumbling backwards out of the room onto the balcony.
The moment he did, someone yelled “Now!” and a shutter was removed from a dark lantern on the next balcony. His Colt was in his hand before he had a chance to flinch.
The light was blinding, but not nearly as bad as the pain which shot through his head the moment a loud retort told him someone had just shot him.
Well, hell.
As he tumbled forward over the edge of the balcony, he twisted and fired twice towards the offending light.
In the way imminent death sharpens the senses and slows down time, Hart heard the first bullet strike glass, a curse, then a grunt as his second bullet plowed into whoever had been holding the lantern.
The light went out, something he had a split second to be grateful for before he slammed into the ground. If he’d had any breath left in his body, he might’ve cursed, but all he could manage was to push himself off to the side, rolling out of the way as a flurry of rounds hit the dirt where he’d just been.
The light’s out! How are they seeing me?
Everything was going woozy, but Hart kept rolling ‘til he knocked up against something. The staircase?
As silently as he could, he pulled himself to his feet and threw himself towards the deeper shadows along the side of the saloon.
“Where is he?”
“Do you see him?”
“I hit the bastard! I know it!”
“Bring in more lights!” That was King’s voice. “McAuliffe? McAuliffe! Dammit, someone get up there and help McAuliffe!”
Hart’s head was spinning, but he felt a grim smile tug at his lips. The man with the lantern must’ve been McAuliffe, and Hart’s bullet had caught him.
Serves him right.
There was the sound of men cursing, and a strike of a match. Knowing he had mere seconds to get himself out of there, Hart stumbled for his horse. But before he’d gone more than two steps, light flared behind him, making him wince and go dizzy again when he attempted to look. He lifted his hand to his head, and it came away bloody.
The shot must’ve knocked off his hat, and the bullet at least grazed him, but he didn’t think he was losing too much blood, too fast. He’d make it out of here.
He had to.
“The Black Ace!” Behind him, King’s voice was gloating. “You dropped something!”
Hart’s low whistle called the gelding to him, and he forced himself up into the saddle without a groan. That’s when he allowed himself to glance back again.
King was standing in the middle of the alley, carrying his cane and waving Hart’s hat, smiling hugely.
Hart cursed under his breath, knowing King wouldn’t be able to hear it past his black bandana.
“I’ve got you now, Black Ace,” King called mockingly.
Hart didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, his head pounding and blood running in his eyes, he kicked his gelding into motion, hunching his shoulders to protect himself from the shot which never came.
* * *
Regina was not comfortable atop a horse, but she managed not to fall off as she raced behind Finnie towards Hart’s ranch. When the other woman had come to find Regina this morning, neither had wasted any time.
Now they both yanked hard on the reins as they reached the yard in front of Hart’s house. Had she really only been here yesterday? Yesterday, she’d stood in his arms and came so close to confessing her feelings to him? But now…
Finnie looped her horse’s reins around the corral post, and must’ve sensed Regina had no idea how to get down. The larger woman stepped up beside the horse, wrapped her large hands around Regina’s waist, and lifted her down as smoothly as a man would have.
Regina should’ve thanked her friend, but her attention was solely on the house and what they might find. She beat Finnie to the door, and after knocking loudly, pushed the door open.
Pony stood in the center of the room, a rifle cradled in his arms, his face a mask of determination. But when he realized who they were, Regina saw his shoulders relax as he exhaled.
“You make more noise than a pack of wild Injuns,” he said dismissively.
From behind him came Hart’s weak voice. “You mean wilder than you, old man?”
When Pony stepped aside, Regina saw her love seated in the same wooden chair in front of the fire, where she’d tended Pony last month. Hart was pale—blood loss?—and a linen bandage wrapped around his head.
The nurse in her took in his stance, his symptoms, his injury…but the woman in her saw only him, and her heart broke.
“Hart!” she cried as she threw herself forward. She landed on her knees beside his chair, wrapping him in her arms as his came around her and pressed her into his chest.
“I love you, Regina,” he whispered harshly against her hair
She was sobbing too hard to respond, and wasn’t even sure what to say. She’d been so afraid.
All night, even yesterday afternoon as she hooked up her own horse to the cariole and headed back to town, she’d been worried about him, wondering if he’d actually fall for King’s trap. Knowing he was honorable enough to do so, and terrified for his safety.
Behind her, there was the sound of murmured voices, but it felt like forever before Regina could get a hold of her fear long enough to straighten and examine Hart. Her cheeks still wet, she allowed her hands to flit across his face, his head, to probe at the bandage, to check him for other injuries.
His palms caught her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Regina,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“How could you not?” she cried, her voice cracking. “I care about you, and this was…”
When she trailed off, Hart hauled her into his lap. She kept her palm pressed against his chest, satisfying herself that his heart still beat strong and true. He met Finnie’s eyes, and his lips pulled down.
“What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” she scoffed. “I sat up with the Marshal all night, and no one ever attacked him. It was a trap, just like Regina guessed. This morning I found her, and we rode out here together to see if you really were as much of a damn fool as we feared.”
Hart’s eyes flicked between the two of them, and Regina understood what he was asking.
She shook her head slightly. “I didn’t tell her.”
Finnie clucked her tongue dismissively and began pacing, her long legs kicking out the simple skirt she wore under the man’s coat. “She didn’t have to tell me. You’re one of my only friends, Hart. You think I wouldn’t have guessed?” She shook her head. “You were always so insistent you didn’t believe in t
he Ace when we talked about him. Then, last night…” Turning, she frowned at the two of them. “I saw your eyes. What the hell were you thinking, Hart? How could you fall for that?”
When he shrugged, he shifted Regina. “How could I not?”
He was honorable. He had to protect Diamon. Still, Regina smacked him in his chest, then proceeded to rub the sting out.
“You have got to be the stupidest, most selfless, most foolhardy man in Black Aces, River Hartwell,” she scolded.
He trapped her hand against his chest. “I know.” He shrugged again. “But someone has to do it.”
The finality in his words, the acceptance in his voice, brought tears to her eyes again. It was as if…as if he’d already come to terms with his fate.
Whatever it was.
Finnie sighed and scrubbed her palm over her face. “I owe you some money, don’t I? Maybe I can dig enough up for you to run—”
“No,” Hart interrupted her. “No, it wasn’t my money I gave you.”
Finnie’s eyes narrowed. “Whose was it?”
Hart grinned just a little sheepishly and glanced at Regina. “It was King’s. A lot of it has come direct from the mine, but don’t ask me how. Please.”
Regina remembered him hinting that someone else had helped him get all the money he’d been using. She nodded slowly, allowing him to keep his secrets.
He took a deep breath. “And I ain’t running.”
When he stood, Regina slid off his lap and ended up standing beside him, tucked up under one arm. She felt him take another deep breath, felt the pounding of his heart, and prayed harder than she ever had before that both would continue for many years.
I’m not so afraid of losing something that I’ll give up the chance to have it.
He’d said that to her, and she’d come to believe it. But now…now she was terrified she’d allowed herself the chance for a future with him, and was about to have it snatched away after all.
“I’m not running,” he repeated. “I’m in no shape, and Pony and I have been discussing this.”
Regina shot a look at the old man in time to catch his frown. Whatever his grandson had decided, Pony didn’t like it.
Ante Up: Black Aces Book One Page 10
