She found out when they arrived in Yukon late in the afternoon. She was returning from the stables while McShane was delivering Johnny-boy over to the doctor’s office. The man came boldly out of the saloon and walked right up to her, a smile of relief and happiness on his strong face.
“Babe!” exclaimed Dallas Hunter. “I found you at last!” He grasped her surprised, unresisting body in a crushing embrace. “And now I’m taking you back with me. And nothing in heaven or hell is going to stop me.”
CHAPTER 21
Dallas Hunter had been searching for Kristin ever since that night on the wharf when she had run away from him after warning him about the attack on his life. He had scoured the wharf area, looking for her, but he knew she had returned to Ironman.
There seemed to be nothing left for him to do then. Still, he had to do something to make sure she was safe. He cared for her too deeply to remain inactive. He hated himself for caring. He cursed himself for caring. After all, he scolded himself, she’s only a moll—an ambitious, amoral, adventure seeking girl trying to make her way up in the world by any means she can. Otherwise, why would she risk her neck returning to Ironman that way?
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had to do what he could to see that she was safe. When he checked in with Rogers to see if he had any information, Hunter was told that there was no word on Kristin at all. How could there be? Rogers had asked. Hunter himself had been the only undercover operative they had gotten into Ironman’s organization. Now there were no inside sources to relay information.
Finally Hunter learned, by bribing bellboys at the hotel, that Kristin was probably no longer with Ironman. No one had seen or heard from her in days. Hunter was not convinced that this meant she was not there. She might still be there, held captive in Ironman’s suite. He had to get to the room to find out.
He worked out a plan. It was simple and straightforward: He would take a force of agents with him, bust into Ironman’s penthouse and place him under arrest. Then he’d interrogate him.
The plan was vetoed by Rogers. “Look, Dallas, we spent months getting what we have on this thug. He’s the juiciest target in Chicago. But we don’t have everything we need to put him away yet. We’re still working on it. If we bust him now, we won’t be able to make it stick. He’ll get out on a habeas corpus. But even if we put him away for a year—and that’s the best we could do at this point—is that what you want? We’ve got to keep the investigation going to get more evidence. You can’t let him know you’re a fed. Not yet.”
“My cover is as good as blown anyway,” Hunter protested hotly. “I won’t be able to get near him anymore! Whether word gets out that I’m a fed or not doesn’t make a damn bit of—”
“You’re wrong, you’re wrong,” said Rogers, shaking his head sympathetically but still stubbornly negative. “We can still use you to get close to other hoods, to some of them who hate Ironman’s guts and know a lot that’ll put him away, but who wouldn’t talk to a fed about it in a million years. If they think you’re still one of them, you can learn valuable information.”
Hunter slammed the heel of his hand against the wall and gritted his teeth in frustration. Raiding Ironman and forcing the thug to tell him what he had done with Kristin, that was the quickest way to find out. Now that he couldn’t do that he’d have to find some other way.
It had taken him a long time. It had taken weeks of talking to people, gaining bits of information here and there, piecing it all together. He had bribed people when necessary, and he’d beaten them senseless other times when that was the only way to find out what he needed. He had followed Kristin’s trail clear across Canada and was still not certain he would ever find her alive. Then, at Tarryton, he had heard about a beautiful blonde haired girl who ran the casino saloon in Yukon. Hunter had gone to the local stables in Tarryton and paid for the loan of a horse. He had no idea that the horse he was given was the same one Ambrewster sold to the stables earlier, after stealing it from Ned Boone.
And now here he was, accosting Kristin in the middle of the unpaved main street, in full view of the gossip minded townsfolk who were looking on interestedly.
Kristin was frowning into Hunter’s beaming face, which was filled with joy at finding her at last—and at finding her alive. She could not quite shift gears fast enough to believe this was really happening, that he was really here. When he tried to kiss her, she quickly turned her head to the side and pushed herself away from him. She stood frowning at him in disbelief, her emotions in turmoil. She was so disoriented, she could not even speak. McShane was over at the doctor’s office. And she was here in the middle of the street with Dallas Hunter, whom she had never expected to see again in her entire life.
She turned and walked away from him. He came after her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong? What is it?” “You . . . you. . . .” The words burst from her frustrated, confused soul. “What are you doing here?!” “I came to find you. To make sure you’re all right. And to take you back with me.”
“I don’t want to go back! I have a life here. There’s nothing for me back in the States.”
His face became earnest. “Not even me?”
She threw up her hands in despair. Seeing his handsome, rugged face and the intense way he looked at her reawakened tender feelings and memories she would rather have left buried. But she could not just brush him off high-handedly, that much was clear. He had come all the way out here to help her, thinking she was in danger. Something else was clear too, she realized, looking around at the gawking faces of the townspeople, their ears perked with interest. She could not talk to him here.
“Come with me,” she said and led him into the saloon.
When they reached the main room, she started leading him across it toward her private office in the back. He took her arm, though, to slow her down. Then he took his place beside here as they walked. His expression told her that he did not like following women.
This made Kristin grit her teeth, for it told her something else too: Dallas would have a hard time adjusting to the way she had changed. She was not the same naïve girl she had been. A lot of growing up had taken place. The life she had led since leaving Dallas to become Ironman’s moll had forced her to become harder, sharper, more able to take care of herself. She liked herself the way she was now. More mature, more frank about human nature and what people had to do to survive. She had no intention of going back to the innocent girl she had been—the one Hunter had been attracted to. This made it only that much more obvious that any possibility of Hunter’s ever getting along with her now was very remote.
They reached her office. Kristin called to her bartender as she stood in the doorway. “Dave, bring us a couple shots of whiskey.” She went into the office and leaned back against the edge of the desk, facing Hunter. “I know you prefer Scotch. But our supplies out here are erratic. Whiskey and beer are all we have.”
“I didn’t know you drank.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Dallas.” The drinks came in and were placed on a wooden table. The bartender left the office, closing the door after himself. Kristin lifted hers in a silent toast, then took a swallow. She hated it. She began coughing and choking, bending forward at the waist. Hunter came to her and began slapping her gently on the back.
“Oh, damn,” she cursed through her coughs and chokes, tears coming to her eyes. She never had been able to handle hard liquor. She had only taken a drink of it now to emphasize to Hunter how much she’d changed, to show that she was a hard-boiled woman. But she had muffed it. And now she had proved just the opposite, for Hunter was no fool. He was laughing at her in a friendly, affectionate, relieved way, while patting her on the back and holding her arm gently.
“You’d better stick to talking in gutter language and trying to walk a few paces ahead of me,” he said, grinning. “That way you won’t risk blowing your cover, as we agents say.”
He smiled at her. “Let me get you something that goes down a bit easier.” There was a water pitcher on the table. He poured her a glass and handed it to her. “As you agents say? Is that what you said?” “Surprise, babe. Dallas Hunter, the casino king, is a government agent working undercover.” He pulled a small leather case from his pocket and snapped it open. A gold badge was inside. He had never carried this when working for Ironman, but now that he was no longer at the risk of having his clothing searched, he found that it came in handy on occasion.
Kristin sank down into a chair and stared at him blankly. Her first reaction was that it wasn’t so. It couldn’t be so! But looking at him, seeing the earnest look on his face, she knew he was telling the truth. She didn’t want it to be true. Her life had been very simple and uncomplicated, even after seeing him on the street a few minutes ago. It had been that way because she knew she could never have a love affair with him. He was a gangster. Now, though, that excuse was gone. And life was no longer simple and uncomplicated.
“Dallas, why didn’t you tell me?” she asked plaintively.
“When you were Ironman’s moll? When your loyalty was to him? You’re asking why I didn’t tell the girl who was so eager to be with him that she left me to do it— me being an agent trying to put her man away for life?” “He’s not my man!”
“Not anymore.”
“He never was! Oh, Dallas, there’s so much more to it than you can guess. If only ... if only I’d known you weren’t really a gangster! I could have told you all about it! Things would have been so different then.”
“Told me about what?” He was alert now, aware that something had been going on beneath the surface, which he had been totally unaware of.
“I’m not really a moll. I’m not that type of girl.”
His voice was somber. “That’s what I told myself all along, right from the start. Until you hooked up with Ironman.”
“I only did that to save my brother’s life! It was the same reason I tried to become your moll in the first place.”
He stared at her with growing interest. “Just who is your brother, anyway?” Before she could answer, though, he said, “Wait a minute.” He narrowed one eye in deep thought and began pacing around the office, his glass of whiskey in his hand. He glanced over at her. Then, as if struck by a realization, he slammed the glass down. He went to her and pulled her to her feet. He looked at her, one eye still narrowed. “You’re Chad Fleming’s sister,” he said flatly.
“You did know Chad! He spoke your name the night he was kidnapped. And I saw his name on your calendar!”
Hunter was shaking his head, not in denial, but in reaction to the horrible mess they had made of what had been their relationship. “What a waste. You don’t have to tell me why you didn’t let me know you were Chad’s sister. It’s pretty clear. You thought I really was a hood and that I had something to do with abducting your brother.”
“Yes!”
“And I thought you really were some immoral girl looking for the easy life of a gangster’s moll.”
Kristin was surprised by how insulted she felt that he actually believed this of her, even though she had gone to great lengths to make him believe it.
“So we both fell for the other’s act,” he said somberly.
“Yes.” She could not keep the sadness from her voice. She too was thinking about the way things might have been had fate treated them a little bit kinder.
Hunter pulled her close. Suddenly he smiled. “But that’s over with now, babe! Now we know the truth about each other, and we can start all over again!”
“No,” she said softly. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” His hand was behind her head, gently pushing her face close to his.
“My life is different now. Things have changed with me.” Her voice was soft, and she was having a hard time thinking straight. She was looking at his eyes and then his lips, feeling herself weaken in his arms. That old familiar feeling of tenderness and yearning came over her. She tried to resist. “I’m not free to . . . to . . . I’m not free anymore.”
He kissed her gently, cutting off her words. Then his kiss became more forceful, and she felt herself melting in his arms, too weak to resist. It had always been this way with him. With him and with no one else. Only he could make her feel this way, so completely, so instantly.
Time lost all meaning. It could have been a second or a minute or an eternity later when the door suddenly burst open and slammed back against the wall. Kristin looked, startled.
There, standing in the doorway, was Sean McShane. He still wore his Mountie uniform, and his angry face was turning as red as his coat as he stared at Kristin in Dallas Hunter’s arms. Kristin backed away. McShane came forward. Before Kristin could stop him, the Mountie had swung at Hunter, hitting him and sending him crashing backward against the wall.
“Sean!” she cried. “No!”
He glared at her with fury.
Hunter straightened up and gained a strong footing, preparing to fight.
“No, don’t!” Kristin exclaimed, coming between them. She held her arms out at her sides to keep them apart. “Now, just . . . just settle down, both of you! There’s . . . we’ve got to talk about this.”
“Talk,” sneered McShane, fists still clenched. Kristin could see he was deeply hurt.
“This is the man I was . . . close to before you found me in Vroman’s whorehouse. I told you a little about him. His name is Dallas Hunter.”
None of this lessened his anger or explained what she was doing in his arms. “What’s he doing here?”
“He came to see if I was in trouble so he could help me. He’s been searching for me for a long time, ever since he found out Ironman knew it was me who tried to warn him.”
McShane accepted the information, but it did not make any difference to him. He was still seething. His fists remained clenched.
“All right,” said Hunter. “He knows who I am. Now you tell me who he is. That’s a very cute red coat he’s got on, but he doesn’t look like Santa Claus.”
McShane began advancing on him again. Kristin held him back, devoting all her attention to pushing him away. “Dallas,” she asked over her shoulder, “would you leave? Please!”
“No.”
“Go outside for a minute. Okay? And I’ll talk to you later.”
“No.”
“Well all right then,” she said, turning angry herself. “Go ahead and kill each other. See if I care.” She put her arms down and stepped aside.
There were three angry people in the room now. The men, though, were each sufficiently interested in what Kristin’s relationship was with the other that they temporarily cooled their tempers. No word was spoken, but a truce was declared by mutual understanding as they glared into each other’s eyes. McShane slowly unclenched his fists. Hunter, who had been standing with his legs braced apart, arms ready for action, relaxed his posture slightly.
“Can we sit down?” Kristin suggested, encouraged by this small success. The men each took a seat, still looking at one another warily, like caged animals ready to pounce. Kristin sat down behind her desk.
“Dallas, this is Sean McShane. He’s the man who saved me from that whorehouse and cared for me while I was in terrible shape. He’s the man I’ve been living with ever since. And he’s my partner in this saloon casino.” She glanced at McShane from the corner of her eye and saw that he was waiting for her to add something more. She could either add it or not add it. Either way, it would be a clear signal to him. He was tensely waiting for that signal.
Kristin lowered her eyes as she looked at Hunter and added softly, “And he’s the man I love.”
That was what McShane had been waiting to hear. He came over to her and took her hand in his, possessively, while staring at Hunter all the while. It was like he was publicly staking a claim. K
ristin sensed that if she had not said those words, he would have instantly walked out of the office . . . and out of her life, no matter how painful it would be for him. That would be his only choice after seeing her in Hunter’s arms, kissing him.
Hunter kept a poker face. “All right. You love him. Congratulations. Now, how do you feel about me?”
She lowered her eyes and did not say anything. She would not lie to him. But she would not answer either. When she looked up, she tried to make her voice gentle. Instead, it was filled with anguish. It hurt her to do what she was doing. “Dallas, one thing I will tell you. I ... I have a life here. I have Sean, and I have my business. And the town. I’ve accepted that this is what my life is going to be. I don’t want any . . . disruptions now. Any complications.
Hunter retained his impassive face. She knew him well enough to know that he was hurt but was not showing it. Why should he show it? It would gain him nothing. She knew he felt that to show your feelings was a sign of weakness. He stood up and nodded. “All right. It’s your life. You make the decisions.” He winked at her. It was a final sign of affection that made her heart sink with sadness at the realization that she would never see him again. Hunter started for the door.
“Wait,” said McShane. He went up to him. “You came all this way to see if Kristy was in trouble and to help her. You can stay for a while. Overnight, at least. You’ll be our guest.”
Hunter shook his head. “There’s no point. Besides, I’ve spent too much time as it is tracking down Kristin. I have to get back to my original mission.” He shook hands with McShane, formally, without friendliness. He said to Kristin, “Good-bye, babe,” and then he turned to go.
“Dallas,” she called after him, “what are you going to do now?”
“Continue my mission.”
“What is your mission?”
“To get evidence against Ironman. And to rescue your brother.”
“What?” she said, astonished. “But he’s dead! Chad is dead!”
Hunter narrowed an eye and peered at her. “Who told you that?”
Passion's Wicked Torment Page 21
