Reassured that all was fine with Pete, Jo returned to her hotel. When she’d stalled all she could by browsing the Keokuk shops, buying some new undergarments, and purchasing a copy of Madam Bovary to see what kind of madam she was, Jo took a taxi to Carter’s boat.
She found it bustling as usual and easily boarded unnoticed. It was a very different scenario than when her friend had asked her to distract the entire boatload of gamblers so he could rescue the love of his life. At that time, Jo had made sure every man jack had seen her grand entrance and kept his eyes on her. Had Carter witnessed her display, or merely heard about it? If he was there, had he been entirely distracted, too?
Jo stopped at the bar in the lower level gaming room and ordered a glass of wine. Lucille, she noticed, stood next to a flush-faced man with a stack of chips in front of him, who kept reaching out a hand to squeeze her rear end. Or try to. Lucille dodged successfully while holding her ground, clearly determined to make a go of a position to which she was ill-suited.
Jo pursed her lips. Her girls were used to better clientele and rarely let themselves be groped. Her girls! God, how she missed them and her business. At that moment, as if on cue, Candace came over with a huge smile gracing her gorgeous face.
“Oh, Miss Josephine, it is so good to see you.” The girl stepped right into Jo’s open arms for a hug.
“How are you doing, honey? Are they treating you well?” Jo asked.
Candace looked around the crowded room. “It’s different. The pay isn’t so good and the hours are longer.”
“You look mighty fine in that gown,” Jo offered. “Class and sass!”
“True,” Candace agreed, sliding her hands down and over her generous hips.
“Ah, here’s my lovely dance partner,” said a handsome man in his prime coming up behind her. “I have a dollar here that’s begging to be yours.”
“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” Candace remarked. “A begging dollar!” But she winked at Jo before letting the man lead her away through the crowd, no doubt to find a place on deck where they could sway under the stars.
Satisfied that her girl was happy, Jo made her way up to the deck on the next level and looked for Carter. No sign of him. Ben was there watching over things, and he spotted her almost immediately.
“Oh, lordy,” she muttered as he made a line for her as straight as the crow flew.
“Welcome, Miss Holland,” Ben said, not looking the least bit welcoming.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, honey,” she said, flashing him the smile that had made a man bestow a ruby on her once. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I was invited.”
“You were invited last time I believe, which didn’t deter you from assaulting our newest hire.”
So much for a winning smile. She decided to change tactics. “How is Miss Darla?”
He relaxed a little. “She’ll survive unless infection sets in. Mr. Carter feels terrible that she took a bullet meant for him.”
“I know he does,” Jo said. “And the boat?”
“Sound as a gold dollar now. It was minimal damage. Had it repaired this afternoon.”
His stance had eased, the initial tension gone. Jo knew she was asking all the right questions. “That’s good. Where is Carter anyhow?”
“Top deck, I think. You want me to tell him you’re here?”
“No, thank you,” Jo said, relieved that he had made the offer instead of wanting to escort her off the boat. “Don’t let me interrupt whatever you were doing. I’ll be good, I promise,” she added with a backward glance.
This time, Ben gave her a wry smile in return, and she knew she’d won him over. If she was going to be Carter’s girl, she had better get along with his right-hand man, who was clearly also his friend.
Carter was talking with two other men but excused himself the moment his eyes lit on her as she crested the stairs.
“There’s my lady,” he said as she approached.
Jo took a sip of her wine to hide her pleasure. This was too “normal,” wasn’t it? But she couldn’t back down now; her heart was in too deep.
“Ben said Darla is holding her own,” she said by way of greeting.
He nodded, looking a bit weary still.
“I guess you’re like family here,” Jo observed, “the way Pete and I are with our girls.”
“Precisely. So you came,” Carter added, stating the obvious.
She sought to make light of it. “I thought I’d save you another trip across the river today.”
He moved a step closer. “I’d cross the river fifty times a day to see you,” he vowed, his eyes burning with intensity. He lifted her wine glass from her and took a long draught. “And will you stay tonight?”
She was mesmerized for a moment by the intimate act of him drinking from her glass, imagining his lips elsewhere. Would she stay? She tilted her head and considered. “Seeing as I don’t have a ride back.”
His smile spread slowly, and he returned her glass to her deliberately brushing her fingers with his.
“What time will you close up tonight?” she asked.
“Whenever you want me to.”
That made her laugh. “That’s no way to run a business, Carter.”
“I’d shut the whole boat down now and toss everyone into the river if you asked me to.”
Her eyes widened. “I must have been damn good this morning.”
He paused and drew his eyebrows together. “This isn’t only about that, and you know it.” Then his expression lightened. “But yes, you were damn good this morning.”
After that, she left him alone to chat with his customers, solve a dispute at one of the gaming tables below, and get the ladies singing when a diversion was needed. She didn’t catch sight of Lucille again or have to hear her warbling. She was impressed by how adept Carter was at handling every situation though not at all surprised.
Meanwhile, she played and won a few games of monte and ordered a meal that was on the house when she tried to pay. Apparently, Carter had already told each of his employees where she and he stood. What an amazing man—confessing that his new girl was a saloon owner and a madam. She’d never expected such a boon. He couldn’t possibly know that in some Chicago society, folks had cut her every which way, directly, indirectly, and sublimely; people crossed the street, tied their shoes, and even gazed at the clouds to avoid looking at her. She had a feeling he wouldn’t give a tinker’s curse what others thought, and she smiled at her good fortune.
Hours later, an irritating voice sounded in her ear. “I can’t believe you’re here again,” Lucille exclaimed on a note that set Jo’s teeth on edge. “Have you no shame?”
The temptation to toss the girl to the ground again rose up swiftly in Jo. Recalling that she’d promised Ben she wouldn’t cause any trouble, however, she satisfied herself by leveling the chit with a stare.
“Is there a reason you’re speaking to me? I don’t want to dance with you, nor do I care for your singing. Don’t approach me again unless I call you over to get me a drink.”
Lucille glared. “I’d as likely toss it in your face.”
Jo raised an eyebrow. “I hope you do. That will be the end of your employment on this boat, and I won’t have to lift a finger to get rid of you.”
Lucille stamped her foot. “You’ll be sorry. In fact, you already are. You just don’t know it yet.” And she turned and walked away.
Sorry? Doubtful. Goaded into doing bodily harm? More likely. But Jo released her thoughts of Lucille like a fisherman releases a sunfish when hunting for trout. The rest of her evening passed with growing anticipation. Finally, she heard Ben give the last call, much the way Pete would in their saloon. It wasn’t long after that she watched the late-night gamblers leave, with Ben and Carter escorting any stragglers off the boat.
Ben left next for his house in Hamilton, a wife and two daughters waiting at home, as he told Jo.
At last, she watched Carter approach her where sh
e sat on a stool by the bar, chatting with the bartender.
“Having a good time?” Carter asked her, his eyes sparkling as he looked her over.
Jo could swear her skin tingled wherever his gaze touched. “I am.”
He crossed his arms. “Usually, I’m rather weary by this time, but not tonight. Right now, I’m feeling a burst of vigor.”
“Does that mean you’re not ready to turn in?” Jo asked, widening her eyes and wondering if she managed to look at all innocent.
Apparently not for Carter’s eyes widened, then crinkled with wicked amusement.
“Harry, pour me a brandy and go home,” he said to his bartender without taking his eyes off of her. He waited for his drink to be slid across the counter to him, and then he took her hand.
“Now I’m ready.”
Jo’s heartbeat was galloping like a wild pony. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, she accompanied Carter to the captain’s stateroom. Quite a different set of circumstances than the last time she’d been there. Jo bit her lip; she’d never explained herself to anyone in her life. Yet as she entered the cabin, she felt the overwhelming need to make sure Carter knew they were not going over old ground.
Placing her reticule on his bureau, she unbuttoned her short, fitted silk jacket, which she laid on a chair. Carter leaned against the door watching her, arms crossed, brandy in hand. She knew what was on his mind, the past—her past, to be precise.
“Just so you know—and I’ll only say this once and be done—your old boss was unable to make a full salute. He had a ‘lazy lob,’ if you understand what I’m saying.”
“Oh,” Carter said and nothing more. His narrowed eyes told her nothing. Perhaps he was imagining what else she might have done with his old boss.
“I gave Stoddard merely a show, and it was all I ever intended to give him.” She hoped to obliterate any doubts Carter might still have about aligning himself romantically with what many perceived her to be—a glorified harlot.
His jaw tightened as he most likely envisioned what that meant, and she wondered if even that was too much for him to accept. Was he already regretting his offer to have her as his lady friend?
However, after a moment, he nodded and sipped his drink.
“Will you give me a show right now?” he asked, on a hopeful note that made her release the breath she’d been holding as her uncertainty eased. And all at once, she was sure he would never let her go.
“I will,” she promised. “And a lot more.”
Jo removed the rest of her clothing under his appreciative gaze. She’d been extra careful choosing her underthings, wearing all satin and lace—red, of course—that she’d purchased earlier in the day. His flared nostrils and darkening gaze told her she’d chosen well.
Putting his glass down, he hauled her into his arms faster than a duck diving on a June bug.
“You are exquisite,” he told her. “Why haven’t you been scooped up by some man and spirited away?”
She snaked her arms up and around his neck, relishing the sensation of her breasts squeezing out of her corset and pressing against his vest and shirt.
“A few have tried, but they didn’t capture my interest. Why haven’t you been tied to some pretty lady’s apron strings?”
He nuzzled her neck, and his lips on her skin felt like paradise, if paradise was a searing brand. “I’m not the apron string–type I guess. I prefer my women independent and with a little zest.”
“And I have zest?” she asked, as he lowered a hand to cup her rear end and tilt her into him.
“You have it in spades, Jo.”
His other hand stroked along her collar bone and then dipped below the top of her corset to brush against her nipples, one, then the other.
“My legs are going to buckle in about ten seconds,” she confessed. “Can we move this to your bed?”
In answer, he lifted her in his arms and laid her down gently on his coverlet. He had just bent his head to kiss the swell of her breast when knuckles made contact with his door.
“Christ!” he exclaimed. “What on God’s green earth . . .?” Then more loudly, he asked, “Who is it?”
“It’s Lucille.”
It was Jo’s turn to swear, but Carter put a hand to her lips.
“This isn’t a good time, Miss Strong,” he called out.
“There’s a woman here named Emily Carlisle,” Lucille persisted. “She says her husband has been injured.”
Jo gasped at the unexpected statement. “That’s Pete’s wife,” she exclaimed, pushing at Carter’s chest so she could sit up. He rolled off the bed, and she jumped up, getting dressed as quickly as she’d undressed. Before she was done, however, Carter had slipped out of the room.
When Jo found him in the gaming room, he was with Emily who was crying and holding their little one.
“Oh, Miss Josephine,” she bawled when she saw her. “Pete’s been hurt bad.”
“How?” She was terrified she would hear that he’d been shot. An image of the blood pouring out of Daisy brought the bile into her throat.
“Strangest thing,” Emily said. “He went round the side of the house and stepped in a coyote trap.
Jo closed her eyes for a second, as if she could shut out the news of Pete’s injury.
“How bad?” she heard Carter ask.
“Bad enough. Nothing gets to my Pete, but he was hollerin’ something to wake the dead. It took both me and my pa to get the trap off of him. But if it had been our little boy who’d stepped in it—” She hugged the child to her and started to cry again.
“Where is Pete now?” Jo asked.
“At home with the doctor. Pete told me to come tell you, either one of you.”
Jo shot Carter a look. “There’s no doubt now that this has to be related.”
“I agree.” His expression matched her grim disposition.
“Come on, Emily,” Jo said. “I’ll take you ho . . . Oh for God’s sake, I don’t have a carriage or a horse.”
“I’ll take her,” Carter said, “and I’ll check on Pete. Maybe I should hire someone to watch the house. Mrs. Carlisle, can your father stay with you to keep an eye out in case there’s trouble?”
Emily frowned. “What’s he talking about, Miss Josephine? What kind of trouble?”
“Answer him, honey,” Jo prompted. “Is your father fit enough, and can he use a gun?”
“Yes,” Emily said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe I should bring them all back here,” Carter suggested to Jo.
She loved that he offered, even though there was not enough room unless they started sleeping in the gaming rooms.
Emily shook her head. “The doctor said he can’t be moved. Not immediately anyway. I’d like to get back to him now. You two have me afeared all over again.”
“It’ll be all right, Mrs. Carlisle,” Carter told her, and Jo prayed to Heaven he was right.
“Just make sure things are settled,” Jo seconded, holding his gaze. “Maybe a hired man is a good idea.”
Leaning on the railing in the darkness, illuminated only by the lamps that Ben had lit earlier on the dock, Jo watched them depart. She kept watching until she couldn’t see them anymore. After that, regret coursed through her, realizing she would spend every moment worrying until Carter returned. She should have insisted she go with him.
Lord but she was exhausted! She rested her chin on her hands and her elbows on the railing. Carter must be even worse. He was into his second night with little sleep except for the catnap in her hotel room that morning. That morning—her mind ranged over their delicious encounter. The way he’d looked at her, touched her, whispered in her ear. Every part of her body set to prickling just thinking about him. And his laugh. And his eyes. And his sensual, firm lips.
How she loved this man! Lifting her head, she slapped a hand over her mouth as if she’d spoken out loud. Then she groaned into the darkness. God, she was head over heels in love with Jameson Carter.
Sh
e tapped on the railing, feeling antsy. What could she do to keep busy until he returned? Just then, one of the dock lights snuffed out with a strange little popping explosion.
What the hell? Exhausted as her body felt, nervous energy zapped through her limbs. She waited, staring at the now pitch black stern, listening intently. However, there was nothing to see and nothing to hear. After a few minutes, Jo wandered back into the gaming room, deciding a snifter of good brandy from Carter’s stock would soothe her and help make the interminable wait more tolerable.
After all, it was just her and his ladies—even if it was black as Hades outside. Jo had her derringer, and unless someone tossed a stick of dynamite blowing them out of the water, she was determined to defend the riverboat in Carter’s absence.
Chapter Six
Jameson winced at the deep gashes on Pete Carlisle’s leg. Jesus! The man was lucky he hadn’t lost his foot altogether. Fortunately, he wore tough buffalo hide boots, which took a little of the impact.
Emily fussed over her husband and their young son fussed beside her. Jameson grabbed her pa for a private word outside.
“You need to be armed and remain vigilant. This wasn’t an accident.”
“I figured that,” the man spat out. “No one puts a trap like that at the bottom of the steps unless they’re off their chump or nail-spittin’ angry at someone.”
“Both perhaps,” Jameson agreed. “You have a gun?”
“Yup, and I’ll shoot the first man who comes to threaten my Emily or her family.”
“I think the target will be Pete again.”
The older man nodded.
Jameson went back inside to talk to Pete. The first words out of the bartender’s mouth were, “You have to protect Miss Josephine.”
Jameson nodded. “I’m going to insist that she stay on the boat with me. The hotel is too open. She’d be vulnerable to anyone going in and straight upstairs to her room. She thinks she can protect herself—”
An Impassioned Redemption: A Defiant Hearts Novella Page 8
