by Lois Greiman
"I'm waiting with bated breath to hear more about the pigeon."
"It flew away."
He felt a smile curve his lips and was surprised to realize it was real. Turning swiftly away, Raven seated himself in the room's only chair. "All right." He moved to stretch out his legs but winced at the shooting shards of pain. He raised his gaze, rapidly checking to see if she had noticed. But her gaze had shifted toward the door, and now snapped back to his face. "I'd catch you," he assured her, though he seriously doubted his ability to capture a hoptoad in a water barrel. In fact, sitting down had been a mistake, for he was entirely unsure whether he could rise again. How embarrassing to be found there in the morning, all alone, with Charm and Jude long gone. But no. It wouldn't be embarrassing, for he would probably be dead, if the lady's expression indicated her thoughts. She hated him, Raven deduced. He wondered at that fact now, for most people didn't hate him until they'd known him for at least a full day.
"I just need some answers," he said now, catching her gaze with his. "Miss Grady wasn't anything to me, you understand. This isn't personal. Maybe she was dead when you found her. You just took her possessions. No one would blame you for that. I just need the truth."
She said nothing, but watched him, her body very stiff. Anger flared in his chest again, but he tamped it down.
"She would be twenty-one this year." He paused, waiting.
"I told you." Charm's tone was clipped. "I got it from my mother."
He drew a deep breath. "All right. What was your mother's name?"
"Eloise."
"And her maiden name?"
"Medina."
"Eloise Medina? Really?" He rose slowly, not thinking to hide the pain now. "Have you told her?"
She eyed him nervously as he paced past. "What?"
It was that fake innocence that made him nearly snap. He turned with a start, barely stopping himself from grabbing her to him. "I said, have you told her yet that she has a daughter?" he asked. "Because when I last talked to her, no one had informed her of the birth. And she's a nurse of sorts; you'd think she'd have noticed such a thing as a baby. But wait. How strange. I'm certain she said she's to be married for the first time in just a few months. No former husbands. No former children."
"You're insane!" Charm gasped out the words, backing stiffly away. "My mother's dead."
"That I don't doubt. But Eloise Medina is very much alive. And she wants her niece back. Her niece! Chantilly Grady. Ring any bells now?" he asked, gritting out the words.
"No."
"Damn it, woman!" he swore, but suddenly he remembered the miniature painting. Dropping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small leather bag. From it he drew out a tiny portrait that he thrust toward her. "Old lady Sophie refused to change with the times. No family photographs. But I managed to find this." He thrust the tiny oil portrait toward her. "This would have been the girl's mother. There may be some resemblance. Does it look at all familiar?"
Charm's eyes widened. There was something about the frail, peaked face in the oval. Something... Eerie silence gripped the room as memories rushed in on her like a dark, consuming wave.
"Was she with Chantilly when you found her?" Raven asked.
A gun exploded in Charm's mind.
"No!" she gasped, certain for the flash of a moment that she herself had been shot. "No!" She was breathing hard. "I don't know her."
"You never saw her before?"
It was hard to breathe. Half-remembered nightmares assaulted her. She dropped the miniature into her pocket. "No," she whispered.
Raven watched her. "You lie," he said evenly. "But blast if you don't do it well. Almost as good as..." he began, and reached for her again.
But suddenly the derringer was in her hand. She backed away a step.
"Touch me again, and I'll kill you," she warned. "I swear I will."
He stopped. His eyes were narrow and shadowed by his dark brows. "Like you killed Chantilly?"
"I told you." Her voice quivered. Where had she seen the face in the tiny portrait? Where? "I didn't kill anyone."
“Then where did you get the Bible?"
"My—"
"Don't say it, Charm," he warned, holding up a hand between them. "I pride myself on my self-control. But I have my limits."
She pursed her lips, trying to think. How was she going to escape? And what about Jude? She couldn't leave him to the mercy of this madman. She longed to glance toward the bed, hoping Jude was awakening, but she didn't take her eyes from the lunatic before her.
"Eloise Medina never married, Charm," he said now, his face expressionless. "Never had a child. She's eccentric, but not so eccentric as to forget such an event. And then there's a darkie named Cora who talks like she knows Chantilly, though she's never seen her. She too is waiting to hear what happened to the girl. You're going to have to work on your lies. You could have said Eloise was a friend. Or even..." He chuckled, looking not the least amused. "Even that you had no idea who she was. There's a fortune at stake, you know. But no. You don't know, do you? Else you would certainly have planned to take more than the Bible. Or did you? What else did Chantilly have on her?" he asked, and took a step forward.
"I'll kill you!" She drew in her breath, holding the derringer in both hands. But terror made her shake, and doubt gnawed at her, making her fingers stiff. "Leave me alone. What do you want from me?"
"The truth." He stopped. "Just the truth."
"She was my mother," Charm said.
In that instant Raven lunged. She squealed and twisted, but he held the derringer now. They spilled to the floor, crashing down together on their sides. They gasped for breath as they tussled for control of the gun.
"Let go!" he ordered, his tone scraped and hard, but she fought back, trying to tear the weapon from his grip.
"No!" she cried, but he was stronger, and she was losing the battle. Bending her leg, she banged her knee against his thigh. He gasped in pain, and seeing her advantage, Charm struck again. But this second assault seemed to do nothing but enrage him further.
With a grunt, he yanked at her hand. The gun exploded. Charm shrieked, but in an instant she saw his face again, miraculously unscathed.
The gun was suddenly beyond her reach. His hands encircled her wrists in a painful grasp.
"What did you do to Chantilly Grady?" he barked right into her face.
Charm sucked in sharp gasps, trying to control her terror.
"What?" he asked, gritting his teeth and gripping her arms harder still.
"Nothing! I didn't know her. I didn't!"
"Then where did you get the Bible?"
"I told you," she whispered. "My mother."
"The devil!" he rasped.
"It's true."
He ground his teeth then smiled grimly through them. "Then you must be Chantilly Grady."
She stared at him, unable to move.
"Is that it?"
Breathe. She had to remember to breathe. "No."
"But you got the Bible from your mother," he said, his tone bitter. "So it must be. But there's a way to tell." He raised his brows at her, looking like evil personified. "Proof. You want to know how?"
She failed to move, but stared up at him, transfixed, horrified.
"A scar," he said. "Grady had a scar. On her thigh. So let me see yours."
"No!"
"No scar? But surely there must be one. Let me look."
"You're mad!"
"Could be."
"Let me up."
"Show me the scar."
"Get up!" She tried to shove him aside, but he was much too heavy.
"So uncooperative," he spat, "when in the name of fairness, you owe me proof. And Eloise Medina... your mother," he scoffed. "She'll want proof that she bore a child. Strange that she could forget such a thing. She'll be grateful when you refresh her memory, I'm sure," he said, and taking both wrists in his right hand, began pulling up her skirt with his left.
Charm bucked against him,
desperately trying to dislodge him. He teetered off her hip, and she lurched up, trying to scramble away. But he was on her again, pressing her back onto the floor.
"Blast it, woman! I didn't start this, but I'm sure as hell going to finish it." Grabbing her skirt again, he yanked the thing up. She thrashed wildly beneath him, pummeling him with her knees. He grunted, trying to quell the shattering pain and managing to still her motion with the weight of his thigh across hers. "Tell me the truth," he ordered, staring into her face. It was flushed a bright red. "Tell me," he repeated, but quieter, for even now he felt himself falling into the wide pools of her eyes.
"Please." The single word was soft and pathetic. "Let me go."
Raven opened his mouth. He wanted to swear at her, for she had no right now to appeal for mercy. Not after the kicking, pushing, and shooting she had done. And yet... She looked very fragile suddenly, with eyes so wide and frightened they seemed to wound his soul. And here he'd thought he no longer had a soul. No longer needed one.
"Listen." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, making him feel foolish. "I'm being paid to find the girl." He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself from her eyes. "She'd been given a Bible by her mother. A small Bible, bound in white leather." He paused, trying to unravel the mystery. "Inside it said Eloise Medina." Their gazes held. He wondered how long it had been since either of them had breathed normally. "There wouldn't be two Bibles exactly the same," he said, answering his own unspoken question. "There couldn't be. But I'm not accusing you of anything, Charm. I won't turn you in. In fact..." She looked very young lying there, and he wondered how old she was. "I'm not on the best of terms with the law myself. Just tell me the truth. Where did you get it?"
Her lips parted. They were pink and full and very well-defined, with a strange little upward tilt, even now.
He waited silently for her answer.
"Please let me go."
Raven gritted his teeth. "You're not listening to me. Tell me the truth, Charm, and I'll let you go. I swear I will."
Still no answer, only her wide, frightened stare on his face.
"All right." He nodded once. “Then I'll have to prove it." He felt like a brute. Hell, he was a brute. He pulled her skirt up a scant inch.
"I got it from my mother," she muttered. "I promise you."
He shook his head once, momentarily allowing himself to admire her beauty, if not the originality of her lies. "I'd like to believe you. I really would," he said and pulled at her skirt again.
"All right!" She gasped. "I'll tell you the truth. Just let me up."
Although Raven had never considered himself to be a genius, neither did he like to think he was quite as stupid as she seemed to believe him to be. "Sorry," he said simply. "Tell me now. Then I'll let you up."
"But I... I can't breathe like this."
Raven watched her face. She did look pale, as if the hot blood had left her cheeks in a rush. But the thought of blood made him think of his own. It would be all over the floor, in copious amounts, if he were so foolish as to release her.
He eased off her slightly, however, still holding her wrists. "Now talk," he said, making his tone hard and pinning her with his eyes.
Her lips formed a circle for a moment, making her appear very innocent.
“The truth," Raven reminded.
Her breath came in a sharp gasp. "You're right. The Bible wasn't mine. But I didn't steal it."
He sharpened his glare.
"I didn't," she repeated. She licked her lips, breathing fast now. "She'd been... shot." Her nod was rapid and short. "In the back."
"By whom?"
"I don't know. She couldn't talk."
"And so you stole her Bible? That seems a bit cruel, even for you."
"No! She was badly hurt, and Jude said... He said we couldn't leave her, so I tried to nurse her back to health."
"Was she alone?"
"Yes. All alone. We tried to help her. Truly we did. She lived for three days." Charm shook her head, rolling it stiffly against the woolen rug beneath her. "But it was no use."
He watched her very closely. "She died?"
"Yes. But she wanted me to have her Bible."
"Why?"
Her mouth went round again, like a frightened child's. "We had become very close. Like sisters."
"In a week?"
"It was a long week."
Raven tightened his grip on her wrists and leaned toward her face. "You said it was only three days."
Air left her lungs in a whoosh. "I mean—"
"Want to tell me the truth now? Or just a more convincing lie?"
"It's the truth. I swear it."
"What is? The one about your mother, Aunt Petunia, or the fact that you'd become close to each other?" He glared, wishing he could throttle her. "Like sisters."
"We did."
"Think of a better one, Charm," he warned, leaning closer still. "Or I'll have you hauled off to jail."
"You can't do that."
He nodded once, playing his last card. "Suspicion of murder, darlin'. Who shot Chantilly Grady if it wasn't you?"
Her lips moved again, but no sound came. He wondered curiously if she were praying, chanting something to save her soul.
"I'm tired," he said finally. "But I'm giving you one more chance."
She opened her mouth. He stopped her words with an upraised finger. "Just one."
No sound was forthcoming. He waited. Perhaps now she was beyond speech, he thought, for she looked shocked enough to die.
He shook his head, causing increased pain to shoot along his neck and down to his stiffening body. "I can't disprove the third lie," he said, feeling anger pierce him again. "But I sure as hell can disprove the first," he growled and, reaching down, yanked her skirt above her knees.
Her scream was piercing, and when the lamp hit his head, it was hard and unyielding, sending him into oblivion with a curse for his own carelessness.
Jude Fergusson, it seemed, had not been quite so inebriated as Raven had thought.
Chapter 5
It took Raven four days to walk with a semblance of ease, and exactly two minutes and thirty-six seconds for him to swear revenge.
He knew, because an aging miner with a weakness for liquor had clocked the time span between the Fergussons' clandestine departure and Raven's vow for vengeance.
Unfortunately the miner had failed to note in what direction the villains had fled. But it mattered little, for despite the difficulties, Raven had found her.
He remained motionless now, watching from a shadowy corner of the saloon. Since New Eden boasted only a half dozen wooden structures, the Red Eye was generally well occupied. But it was not yet dusk, and the miners who frequented the place would flock in later.
For now there were fewer than a dozen patrons in the room, five of whom occupied the same table. It was there that Raven's attention was held. Three of the men were large burly fellows who appeared to have been drinking since making enough ore to buy the booze. Or perhaps they were trappers, for they wore hides of uncertain origins draped upon their massive shoulders like trophies of war.
Raven shifted his gaze to the fourth man. Jude Fergusson sat with his brows pulled low, impatiently tapping the table with two blunt fingers. During his search, Raven had been afforded time to craft several possible scenarios concerning that man. None of them was complimentary, but all of them were interesting, and should assure a rise from the old man if properly stated. At the moment, however, Jude's past transgressions seemed insignificant, for Charm was there, too.
Raven filled his lungs with a deep waft of smoky air and waited, savoring the anticipation of approaching her. Gone was the girl's stained traveling suit. In its place was a shimmering gown of scarlet hue. It hugged her bosom with lusty intimacy before sweeping over her hips to fall to the floor in ruffled layers. Raven took another deep breath, knowing he'd forgotten her effect on him. But it wasn't just on him, he realized grimly. On all men. Not one of Jude's opp
onents was looking at his cards, for Charm took that precise moment to bend over her father's shoulder.
Damn her conniving, luscious, mouth-watering little body.
"You in or out, Henri?"
Raven could just barely hear the giant's husky question. A grumbling response followed as cards were tossed to the table. None of the gamblers, however, took his eyes from the girl. It wasn't long before the game was completed, for, indeed, who could concentrate with Charm looming softly curved and smiling at her father's side?
Anger diffused Raven in hot waves. He stood with slow, well-controlled impatience, quietly pushing himself from the table to cross the dim room. "Mind if I sit in?"
Her expression made it all worthwhile. All the pain. All the searching.
"You!" she whispered in surprise, but Jude's welcome was not so benign.
"Damn you!" he roared, lunging to his feet. But a table and three men occupied the space between them. Raven smiled with smug satisfaction.
"Good to see you again, Fergusson," he said with a nod. "And you, too, Miss Charming."
Her face, he noted with some satisfaction, was as pale as a silver dollar, and her eyes were just as round.
Raven brightened his smile.
"I'll kill you!" Jude growled.
"Seems to be a family custom," Raven said. "In fact..." he began, drawing a cheroot from the inside pocket of his silver-embroidered vest, "that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about." From a mental file Raven pulled a possible scenario with casual aplomb. "Killing. Randall Grady, to be specific."
Jude dropped like a fallen stone back to his chair. The blood drained in a rush from his face.
Raven raised his gaze to Charm again, enjoying every moment. "I ain't no ghost. Though I can't blame you for that fact. Now we have us a little something to clear..." But Jude's breathing had become harsh and rattling, interrupting Raven's words.
Charm dropped to her knees beside him, touching his arm as she examined his pasty face. "Are you all right?" she asked, but Jude was beginning to list toward the left. She teetered under his weight, trying to keep him from falling. "Help him! Please!"
There was little Raven could do but assist, for Jude's three large opponents seemed nailed to their chairs, and surely a dead man could give him no answers. So, he rushed about the table to push the failing fellow to the right, balancing him there as Charm rose rapidly to her feet.
