Marty’s eyes shot open. “Well, I must admit I’ve never seen a lady drink quite like that.”
Her cheeks burned, whether from embarrassment or the wine or a combination of both, she didn’t know. “I—that is—” She looked away. “A friend of mine died last week.”
Another partial truth. Her cheeks burned even hotter. Yes, she still grieved Ms. Stuart, but that wasn’t what was ailing her tonight.
Marty gave her a knowing nod and poured another half-glass of wine.
She shouldn’t, but the memory of the gala started dancing across her mind and she took up the glass. I don’t want to remember the fire, or Blaylock or . . . or Marianne.
It didn’t take long for the alcohol to hit her bloodstream. Marty stayed and chatted while she nodded and sipped, her mind slipping away from the sharp-edged memories into a more comfortable lull until—finally— the memories slipped away altogether.
Kat wasn’t sure how long she sat there in the booth. After a time, Marty came and went, talking quietly and kindly, but she never heard the words, just the tone. It felt nice to have someone talk to her that way. It made her feel warm inside.
The men from the bar soon left, and it was just her and Marty. He started watching the door as if waiting for someone. But who? She looked that way as well.
A man’s face swam before her eyes. Dark blond hair, hazel-green eyes. A carefully trimmed mustache. He drew back from her, dressed in the dark olive uniform of the World City police.
No. Now he was dressed in a long leather duster, white shirt and dark pants beneath, and a revolver strapped to each hip.
Stephen.
Kat sat up and her eyes went wide. Stephen would be here. Or was that tomorrow? And she was supposed to be up in the room, right?
She stood and the tavern began to spin. Whoa. She pressed her hands down on the table and waited for the room to stop.
From the corner of her eye she saw Marty jog toward her just as the door opened from the outside.
Kat blinked and looked again.
Stephen walked in.
“Stephen,” she whispered, and something shifted inside her heart. The strange feeling swelled. It felt like the world had been off kilter, but the moment Stephen walked in, it righted itself.
Stephen paused inside the doorway and scanned the dining room. His gaze stopped on Kat.
She went to leave the booth, but her legs wobbled beneath her. Marty arrived at that moment and reached for her, blocking her view of Stephen.
Marty caught her and held her up. She glanced at his broad face and smiled. “Stephen’s here.”
“I noticed.”
She tried to push the bartender away, to right herself, but didn’t seem to be able to make her body do what it was supposed to.
“Marty, what the blazes happened here?”
Marty finished helping her out of the booth, then looked over his shoulder. “The lady said she was lonely. Wanted to come down.”
Kat pushed away from Marty and straightened her skirt. At least she tried. But she couldn’t make her skirt stop moving. And why was the ground coming toward her?
Someone rushed in front of her, blocking the floor from her vision. She fell against a body and looked up. “Stephen . . .” Oh, thank God he was here.
His nostrils flared and he looked over her head. “So you got her drunk?”
Somewhere inside her mind, she heard Marty answer, but the words were jumbled.
Stephen answered back sharply, then turned her and led her toward the stairs at the end of the dining room.
She patted his arm. “It’s all right, Stephen. I didn’t want to be alone. Marty kept me company.”
His jaw tightened. “Like blazes he did!”
Kat swayed, a frown across her lips. Stephen didn’t seem happy.
He helped her into the stairway and followed a step behind her, a hand on her elbow.
Halfway up the stairs, Kat turned around. Stephen almost crashed into her, stopping a step below her, right where she could look directly into his eyes. The light from the dining room below left most of his face in shadow, but she could still see the curvature of his cheek and lips, and his neatly trimmed mustache.
There seemed to be two Kats inside her at that moment: the proper Kat and the Kat who had no inhibitions. The latter Kat reached over and cupped his cheek.
His eyes widened, but she kept her hand there.
She had never felt a man’s face before. It was different, rough and smooth at the same time.
He visibly swallowed. “Kat, we should keep going.”
Her fingers brushed his lips.
“Kat,” he said hoarsely.
“Stephen, I didn’t want to be alone. The memories, they kept coming. And—and I missed you.” Somewhere inside, she knew she shouldn’t be touching him like this, shouldn’t be saying these things. But she didn’t seem able to control her fingers or her tongue. Whatever came to mind rushed out of her mouth.
Stephen’s face changed. Ever so slowly, he moved his head closer until she could feel his breath. Before she could figure out what he was doing, he touched her lips with his.
22
“I don’t want to be alone.”
In that moment, Stephen knew exactly how Kat felt. He didn’t want to be alone, either. For too long he had shut off his heart, sealed it so deep inside that no woman could ever touch him again.
But as they stood there on the stairs, her dark eyes looking into his, her hand against his cheek, the seals broke and it felt like his heart beat for the first time since that day Vanessa broke it.
His gaze was drawn to her lips, slightly open. He closed the distance between them, the rush of his heart directing him until his lips brushed hers.
She was soft and gentle and smelled like sweet berries.
No, I shouldn’t do this. “Kat,” he said again and pulled back, but she moved forward and kissed him again.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing! Marty had given her wine and it was messing with her. But another part of him could only feel her lips and his own desire.
So he kissed her back.
Kat wasn’t like Vanessa. Vanessa had been possessive and hot. Kat was strong and cool and eager, which fed his blood even more. He ran his hand through her hair, pulling her chignon loose, and cupped her head, deepening the kiss. He spread his other hand between her shoulders, fingering the top of her corset.
Warning.
I need . . . to stop . . .
Kat went slack in his arms, her knees buckling beneath her.
Stephen sucked in a breath and tightened his arms to support her, his mind and body racing with heat. What the—
Her head sagged to the side, her eyes closed.
A chill replaced the heat.
“Kat!” He gave her a small shake. “Come on!” He gave her another shake. A small snore escaped her lips.
Nothing was wrong with her. She had only passed out.
Kat gave another snore and her lips turned upward in a contented smile.
His heart twisted at the sight. He brushed back a loose curl, then dropped his hand and scowled. He had completely taken advantage of her! Grey, you fool!
Disgusted, Stephen maneuvered himself around and tried to pull Kat up the stairs, but her limbs kept hitting the wall or catching on the steps. Finally, he just picked up her and carried her the rest of the way.
She was small and light, hardly anything to her. And her smell . . .
Stephen clamped his lips shut and hurried down the hall to their rooms. He shifted Kat to one arm and managed to open the door.
Inside, he took a left at the card table and entered the dark bedroom. A simple double bed stood against the far wall with a nightstand on either side.
He didn’t bother turning on the lamp. Instead, he
placed Kat down on the coverlet, debated whether to make her more comfortable, then decided he had done enough damage without removing any of her attire.
She gave a small whimper and shifted to her side, curling her legs up beneath her skirt and tucking a hand beneath her head. Her dark hair splayed across the pillow.
Stephen sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Would she remember their kiss in the morning? He hoped not. It had been a moment of weakness, one that he would not repeat. Even now, he could feel his heart sinking back to that deep place where it could not be touched. But it beat now, and that was something he could not stop.
But did he want it to?
Stephen turned away from the room. He didn’t feel like sleeping. He didn’t feel like doing anything. So he grabbed one of the chairs by the card table and pulled it over to the window that overlooked the street below.
The street was dark, with only the light from a nearby gas lamp. He laid his head against the glass and watched the darkness.
He could hear Kat breathing in the other room, a comforting sound. It moved him. How long had it been since he let another human being into his life? Jerod didn’t count, the man simply worked for him. And he had kept Patrick at bay since he had left the force.
Stephen sat back in the chair and spread his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He folded his arms and rested his chin on his chest, and listened to Kat’s breathing.
In . . . Out . . . In . . . Out . . .
Faint light streamed across Stephen’s vision. He woke up with a jolt and sat up in the chair. The street outside was lit pale yellow as the early morning sun dawned over Covenshire. The blue sky above promised a beautiful day.
He ran a hand across his face and took another long breath. He couldn’t remember his dream, but it had left him feeling nostalgic and wistful. Something about a family—his family—with a wife and kids. And a big white house in the country.
Stephen settled back into the chair and looked out the window, the feelings draining away, leaving him cold inside. That kind of life wasn’t for men in his profession. Best to put those thoughts away.
Kat!
Stephen jerked around and stared at her bedroom. He could barely see inside, only a lump on the bed. He held his breath. He couldn’t hear her.
He came to his feet and took a step toward the room when the lump groaned and moved. He dropped his shoulders and shook his head. She was not going to feel good once she woke up. He should probably go get something for the headache she would undoubtedly have, and maybe a bucket too.
Just as he turned for the door, something outside caught his eye.
Stephen turned back. Three men. No, four men, were making their way along the street toward the inn. Another one joined them from the alley to the right. From the purposeful way they walked, he was pretty sure they weren’t coming for breakfast.
He checked his revolvers and shoved them back into his holsters. He glanced one more time at Kat, then headed for the door. They had company, and he would be sure to give them a warm welcome.
“We are looking for a man and a young lady. We received a report that they stayed here last night.”
Marty splayed his hands on the bar and stared at the men in front of him. “Look, I don’t make a habit of giving out private information. Good way to drive paying customers away.”
“But did you provide lodging for them last night?” The investigator fished his badge from an inside pocket. “You should know, the penalty for abetting a fugitive is quite high. Think carefully before you answer.”
Stephen leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms. His revolvers sat snuggly against either side of his hips, within easy reach. He cleared his throat and looked at the counter. “Last I checked, harassing a barkeeper usually makes him tight-lipped.”
The two men turned, but before they could speak, another voice broke in.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Stephen Grey.”
Stephen went rigid and slowly scanned the room. He didn’t know the two investigators personally, but he knew that voice: Jake Ryder, fellow World City bounty hunter, though that was where the similarities ended. He stood to the right, just beyond the bar counter, his flaxen mustache curled perfectly on either side of his face. His cap was pulled low over his eyes, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, revealing the colorful tattoos scattered across his arms. His hand rested on top of the revolver that hung at his side.
Piers Mahon leaned against the counter next to Jake. More gentleman than bounty hunter, he sported a small, dark mustache and bit of hair beneath his lower lip. His cream colored top hat matched perfectly with his coat, which, in turn, complemented his gray vest and matching silk ascot. The monocle he sported over his right eye seemed to complete the image, but it was not for aesthetic value. Rather, a specialized scope for sniping. The cane at his side concealed his unusual rifle.
Rodger Glennan, also known as “the Judge,” stood in the corner—all muscle, no mercy. He had lost an arm during a scuffle a few years back and now had a weaponized prosthetic attached to his shoulder that could put a fist-sized hole in a man from a hundred feet away. Buckles and belts crisscrossed his body, with holds for daggers, small guns, and instruments of pain. Lots of pain. Not that anyone ever lived long enough to remember. Rodger always brought his bounties in dead.
“I should have known you would be here, Grey.” Jake fingered his revolver. “With a bounty this big, everyone will be after the woman.”
What bounty?
Piers smiled and straightened. “He’ll have to catch her before I do.”
“Before we all do.” Jake shot a look at Piers. The other man shrugged and adjusted his monocle. Rodger just grunted from the corner. “Remember, we are in this together.”
Stephen’s eyes went wide. Jake, Piers, and the Judge were all working together on a bounty? Hell must have frozen over during the night.
Stephen pulled his duster back, making sure his revolvers were visible, and leaned against the doorway. “Since when did you three start working together?”
All three men shot each other dirty looks. “Since none of us wants to die on this bounty,” Jake said, turning back toward Grey. “We figured it was better if we split the money instead of killing each other over it.”
Stephen sifted through every bounty he knew of, but couldn’t pinpoint one where the cash was high enough to involve any of these three, let alone all of them together. Especially one that involved a woman. What woman? They couldn’t mean Kat, could they? But then he would have heard about the bounty. Jerod would have telegraphed him.
Piers tapped a finger along his cane. “You know, you’re not a bad hunter yourself, Grey. Perhaps we could let you in on it.”
Rodger growled in the corner and brought his prosthetic arm up to point at Piers. “I’m already losing enough money on you two,” he said in a gruff voice. “I won’t lose any more.”
Piers smiled, his black facial hair making him look devilish. “And we both know Grey would have a bullet in your head before you finished firing that ridiculous arm cannon.”
“Men, men.” Jake raised his hands.
Piers laughed, and Rodger scowled.
Jake pulled his revolver out and inspected some invisible speck. “Don’t bait Rodger, Piers. Grey might be faster, but you’re not. And you would hate to get blood all over that dandy suit of yours.”
Piers nodded, a smile still tugging at his lips. “True, true.” He smoothed the front of his vest.
Judging from the tension between them, Stephen wasn’t sure if these men could actually work together without one of them ending up dead. Best to find out what this bounty was all about before the shooting began. He cleared his throat, and all three men looked his direction. From the corner of his eye, he kept tabs on the two other men, who thus far had made no further move. �
��Tell me more about this bounty.”
Silence filled the room.
Piers moved his monocle again as if trying to get a better glimpse of Stephen. “Wait, you don’t know about the bounty on that woman from the Tower? The bounty set up by the World City council itself?”
The Tower? And the World City council? His stomach dropped.
Rodger looked at him wide-eyed, his prosthetic arm drooping slightly.
Jake lowered his revolver. “You can’t be serious, Grey.”
Stephen shrugged, but the hairs rose along his neck. “I’ve been out of town on another mission.”
Jake laughed. “Stephen Grey, famous World City bounty hunter, doesn’t know about the bounty of the century?”
Stephen crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow.
“Then why are you here, unless . . .” Jake glanced at Piers, and Piers gave him a small nod.
The wheels were spinning inside Stephen’s mind. Bounty. Woman. From the Tower. His mouth went dry and the blood rushed from his face. There was one woman here who fit that description perfectly.
But it couldn’t be! There had to be some mistake.
Piers narrowed his one eye, his gaze fixed on Stephen. “Our men reported that a gentlemen was seen escorting the woman, and that he was good at shaking off anyone on his trail.”
The two men near Marty nodded.
This couldn’t be happening! Kat couldn’t possibly have a bounty on her. What in the world could she have done to warrant such a high reward? She would have had to murder someone high up, and even then?
It’s ludicrous! Kat couldn’t have killed anyone.
But she’s been keeping information from me.
But murder?
Stephen’s head began to pound. There was something going on. Either Jake, Piers, and Rodger had the wrong woman—which they were too professional to do—or something deep and dark was happening back home, and somehow Kat had ended up right in the middle of it. And the World City council now wanted her arrested.
Well, not today. Not until he had the whole truth from Kat herself. Then he would decide.
Stephen slowly moved his hand toward his revolver.
Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1) Page 16
