by Vanessa Vale
She bit her lip and I watched as her cheeks darkened further and her entire being shifted into quick arousal. The idea of me seeing everything had her very eager. Once she'd learned that her body was perfect, that she made me hot, that she made me hard, every hint of modesty had fled. She was bold and brazen and knew her power over me. She liked being on display and knowing I was watching and all but panting for her.
First things first, I wanted to come. I began to stroke my cock in earnest and my hips moved. I used my chin. “Get your breasts soapy and play with your nipples.”
She did as requested and it wasn't long before I was close. I stood, took the few steps to the side of the tub as my hand continued to pump. I aimed my cock at her wet breasts and when my balls tightened, I shot thick ropes of seed onto her. When I caught my breath, I squatted down beside the tub, my pants still open. “Looks like you're all dirty again.” I yanked the soap from her fingers. “I might have to help with that.”
DAHLIA
Garrison roused me from sleep long enough to kiss me and tell me he was going to meet the train. It had come in early, its whistle announcing its arrival. It was no wonder I didn't hear it, for he had kept his word and had me in bed—and well occupied—until late into the night.
“Sleep. I'll return when the horse is settled.”
I wanted to go with him and told him as much.
“It will be too crowded and I will be focused on the horse. If I have to worry about you, I will be distracted.”
Even addled with sleep, I understood his attentions would be torn if I escorted him. The bed was comfortable and my body was deliciously tired from his attentions. “Hurry back,” I murmured.
Kissing my forehead as I pulled the covers up around me, he promised just that and slipped out the door. I didn't wake again until the sun came in through the window.
I dressed and went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast. It was late in the morning and the room was not full. I looked out the window and onto the street where I observed the bustle of a busy city morning. While I enjoyed Cheyenne, I was looking forward to returning home. The Montana Territory all but called to me to return.
“That new husband of yours keeps you well occupied.” I looked up from my plate in time to see a man sit down across from me. My surprise slowed my thinking.
“I know you,” I replied, trying to place him.
He was neatly dressed, clean and neat. His hair was combed and his mustache trimmed.
“You should. I was witness to your marriage.”
A cold chill of apprehension had me dabbing my lips from my napkin, allowing me a moment to think.
“We are very far from home. This is not a coincidence, is it?”
He smiled and shook his head. To the others in the restaurant, he seemed mild and unassuming, but I could see the coldness in his eyes, the way his smile was fake. “Besides being one appealing filly, you're smart, too.”
I looked to the entrance. “My husband will be here to join me momentarily.”
He leaned forward, his forearms on the table as he shook his head. “He'll be a while yet. The car carrying his horse is at the back and they'll be some time before they move the train forward enough to reach the ramp.”
If it had been a trunk or large parcel that had to be claimed, it could have been tossed off easily enough. But a horse couldn't jump from such a height without breaking a leg, therefore patience was required until the train moved so it could be led off safely.
“Very well. What is it you want from me?”
I placed my hands in my lap and pressed myself into the tall back of my chair.
“Money.”
I was slightly relieved by his answer, for he'd been the man to volunteer to marry me if I hadn't wanted Garrison. He'd been jesting then, but if the man had followed me hundreds of miles, I couldn't be so sure any longer.
“I assure you I have none.”
He slowly shook his head. “I know you have plenty. 'Sides, that husband of yours has pretty deep pockets.”
“Be that as it may, I certainly don't carry any large amount upon my person and Garrison has not provided me with any kind of pin money.”
Sweat dotted the man's brow. He was not as calm as he had originally appeared. “Then you'll have no problem winning it for me.”
“Win it for you?” I frowned, then when I realized his intent, I leaned forward and whispered, “You mean Poker?”
He nodded.
“Why should I do that for you?”
The man's eyes darted left and right. “I don't really want to kill your husband, but I will if I have to.”
My heart stuttered to a halt in my chest. While I was perfectly safe in a roomful of people, I was afraid. Very, very afraid of the man before me.
“Why would you have to… kill Garrison?”
“Because I owe money. A gambling debt and I need to repay it. A man offered me enough to wipe that out, but I'd have to kill your man. I don't want to do it, truly I don't, but I'm desperate.”
Desperation was not a good thing. People's minds became singularly focused and acted irrationally. I knew this firsthand, for my need to leave the ranch and my family had been strong enough—desperate enough—for me to venture into dangerous saloons and gamble. This man was an example of that danger that I'd brought not to me, but to Garrison.
“You're far enough from the Montana Territory as it is. Why not continue on, to start a new life somewhere else.”
I saw real fear in his eyes. “They're watching my wife. If I don't return in two weeks time, they'll harm her.” He leaned in, his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. “I won't kill your man if you win me the money I need.”
I swallowed hard. “Why don't you play and win the money back.”
“I saw you play. You're good. I don't know if you cheat or count cards or are just plain lucky.”
“I can't keep something like this a secret from Garrison. I admit, you have me fearful and nervous and he'll know something is amiss.”
He tilted his head toward the lobby. “We're going now before he returns.”
I looked around. While there were people about, this man was desperate. His wife was in harm's way and he would do anything to save her. I felt the same, for he was putting me in the exact same predicament. If I shouted and caused a stir in the restaurant, he would most definitely follow through with hurting, no… killing Garrison. In order to save my husband, I had to do this. “Now? It's ten in the morning.”
“You've been in saloons before. There's always a game.”
What would Garrison think when he found me gone? Surely he'd think I left him to remain in the city. It had been my dream and that dream had gotten us into this predicament to begin with. He'd think I betrayed him, that I didn't love him. He would think I didn't want to be his wife—that I'd choose a silly city lifestyle over a man who filled up every empty place in my heart.
He wouldn't want me, for he'd made it expressly clear that I wasn't to play Poker anymore. When he found me, he would reject me, not want me for his wife. Why would he? Why should he? I was just the flippant, gambling woman who'd choose Cheyenne over him. I knew how to make money and could easily survive in the city on my own without him. He'd take his horse and go home, at least knowing I'd gotten exactly what I wanted all along.
The ache in my chest was so great I put my hand there and rubbed at it. I nodded and stood, followed the man out of the hotel. I'd rather have Garrison alive and hate me than dead, so I did as the man wanted.
CHAPTER NINE
GARRISON
It had been a long morning, longer than I'd wanted to spend retrieving the horse from the train and getting it settled at the livery. I was tired—all the late night fucking meant little shuteye—sweaty and I smelled like horse. All I wanted to do was take a bath and take a nap with my bride. When I returned to the room, I did not find Dahlia as I'd expected. I hadn't seen her in the lobby as I'd gone through and the restaurant was closed between
meals. The bed was unmade and the scent of her, the scent of lovemaking was in the still air.
Where the hell had she gone? It was then that I saw the note on the small table beside her plain gold wedding ring that had belonged to my mother. My heart leapt into my throat and plummeted at the sight of it. I knew. I knew. She was gone.
Both women were so much alike, both she and my mother choosing to leave me for a fucking town. I wasn't enough for my mother and I was clearly not enough for Dahlia. I'd given her exactly what she'd wanted, a visit to a big city. I'd hoped she'd enjoy it, and then want to be with me, to return to the ranch and share a life with me. But no. No.
I'm sorry. D
That was it. No “I love you.” Nothing of the kind. She'd never said the words to me. Never. I'd told her so fucking early on that there was no doubt she knew of my feelings for her. They'd been reiterated in gestures, words and actions. She knew of my love and turned it down. Crushed it beneath her boot.
I crumpled the paper in my fist. If she were leaving, she'd have to tell me to my face that she didn't want me anymore. My mother hadn't said goodbye. She'd been a coward. I wouldn't let Dahlia get the same easy opportunity.
***
I scoured the town for her. The hotels and boarding houses, restaurants and shops, I searched everywhere she might have been. I found her where I least expected her. I passed a saloon and through the plate glass window I saw her. I shouldn't have been surprised to see her there. Hell, I should have searched all the saloons first. Her back was to me, just as it had been in Carver Junction. She was at a table with three other men playing Poker, just like in Carver Junction.
I clenched my jaw shut and my teeth ground together. Not only did she decide to leave me, but she'd taken up Poker within the first few hours. She was very skilled at the game, her mind sharp. She was so fucking smart she could easily earn her keep and then some in Cheyenne—if she wasn't raped or killed first.
For a few minutes I just watched her, letting people pass me on the boardwalk, the sound of the wagons and horses muted behind me. My focus was solely on Dahlia, on her straight back, her small hands, the way, when she turned her head to the side I could see she watched the other players with a very bland face. It was that expression that was the kick in the pants. She was exceptional at lying. She was exceptional at bluffing. While there was no question she came when I fucked her—she couldn't fake the way her pussy clenched my cock or the way she dripped with her desire—she was the consummate deceiver. How long had she planned on leaving me? Ever since we left the ranch or once we arrived in town?
I thought of the money she'd won. She'd said sixty-five dollars. That would gain her entry into any game in town. That meant she'd brought it with her, that she'd planned this from the start. I pushed off the wall and stalked through the saloon's double doors. It was crowded for early afternoon, several tables of cards being played, men lined the bar with whiskey in hand. I moved to stand among them and ordered a shot of my own, observing Dahlia from a closer vantage point. She had some money in front of her, but so did the others. It was early yet. To gain all of the men's money, she'd be at it for the rest of the day.
It was after I downed the whiskey did I notice the man who sat off to the side. While many of the men had their eyes on Dahlia, this one looked familiar. I knew him. It took me a minute to place him. He'd been in Carver Junction playing cards with Dahlia when I arrived at the saloon. He'd been a witness to our hasty wedding.
I saw red. A deep dark angry haze of red that had me wanting to stripe my wife's ass with my belt. They were partners and she hadn't told me. Fuck. Had he followed her here or had he been waiting for her? I'd never been so enraged in my life. I wanted to go over and rip the man limb from limb. I wanted to confront Dahlia, get her to admit her scheming. I signaled to the bartender for another shot and I swallowed it down easily. The rotgut settled in my belly and it did nothing to ease the anger or ache of her deceit.
It took two hands for me to observe some nuances of Dahlia that were different. She usually smiled and offered a relaxed demeanor with the men. She'd all but hooked the men from Carver Junction around her finger. What man could deny playing with a pretty woman who liked to flirt and smile coyly? Dahlia was not doing that. She hadn't relaxed her posture, hadn't even tipped up the corner of her mouth. She was methodical, almost clinical about her playing. While she'd pulled coins and bills into the growing pile before her, she was not pleased by it. The man from Carver Junction, however, was. He was edgy and nervous—his foot tapped constantly on the dirty floor—and visibly relieved with each hand she won.
I moved down the length of the bar so I could see more of her face. It took an instant, just a quick view of her profile to know something wasn't right. She was pale, her lips almost bloodless. To the men, she probably looked perfect with her hair tucked neatly into a bun, her dress neat and crisp. She was beautiful. But when it was her turn to shuffle, her usually adept fingers fumbled the cards. I could easily see her hands shake as she dealt.
There was no question she was in the saloon and playing cards with the man from Carver Junction, but she definitely wasn't with the man. The one time he leaned forward and spoke to her, she stiffened and her fingers shook even more. Something wasn't right. Hell, something was fucking wrong. Dahlia was in trouble. The last time I discovered her playing cards, I married her. I had a very good idea what I was going to do with her this time around… once I got the truth from her.
DAHLIA
I was winning, but I had none of the zeal for the game I'd had before. I certainly had my focus on the game; Garrison's life depended on it, but I could sense Mr. Crumb—he'd told me his name—off to the side. His tension was palpable. But it wasn't his agitation or nervousness that had the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
There was an awareness, a sense of… someone that had me whipping my head around.
Garrison. He was here! Oh God. He was here. My eyes flared at the sight of him. He was so tall, so big, so handsome. So mine. I gave my head a little shake. No. He was mine no longer. The evidence of my deception was damning. I was in a saloon playing Poker. He'd found my note, the ring and now he'd found me.
“I'll join the next round,” he said as way of greeting, pulling a chair over to the table. Two of the men moved over to give him space. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Crumb stiffen and stand. Fortunately, it wasn't my turn to deal, for I'd blundered enough the last time. I could barely hold the cards I'd been dealt without my hands shaking. The first game with Garrison went smoothly, the man to my right winning. I knew Garrison. He could beat me, could beat all these men. He just wasn't going to do it from the first hand.
Once the second hand's cards were dealt, he spoke. “You look familiar,” he said to me.
I licked my lips, not sure of his intentions. “Oh?” I whispered. “Two cards, please.”
The man to my left dealt me the new cards.
“What is your name?” he asked. “Perhaps that will prompt my memory.”
“Opal,” I replied, meeting his dark eyes. “Opal Banks.”
His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “No, I must be mistaken. I was looking for a woman by the name of Dahlia Lee.”
A lump the size of a piece of coal lodged in my throat and I was afraid I would cry. Garrison wasn't playing games. He didn't want the woman I'd pretended to be for so long. He'd said he could see the real me, could see through all of my antics. Could he see through me now? He'd come here for his wife, to find the woman he'd said he loved.
He'd said the words. I love you. He'd said he'd loved me for almost forever. But I'd never said them back. Never. I'd been so focused on hiding my hurt, hiding my fear of loving someone and then having them leave me. But I'd done just that to him. Garrison had never given up on me, even asked me to marry him more than once. He'd told me of his love, even showed it. I'd been so caught up in my dream of living in the big city—of running away— that I hadn't paid any attention to what had been rig
ht in front of my face all along.
I'd had two adopted mothers who'd created a loving and safe environment for eight scared little girls to thrive. I'd had sisters who pestered and griped but we were bonded by something even closer than blood. Love.
Then there was Garrison. He'd been my rock, my strength and knew me. The real Dahlia Lenox Lee, not Opal Banks. Not the lost, driven woman who hadn't seen that my struggles had been for nothing because what I'd been searching for had been right in front of me all along. Ever since Garrison had stuffed that snowball down the back of my coat, he'd been there.
And he was here now.
I darted a glance over my shoulder at Mr. Crumb and he was not pleased. Would he shoot Garrison here and now and be done with it? With one shot his debt would be paid and his wife would be free. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor, then tipping over. The other men, while rough and seedy, stood as well. Garrison was a good several inches than either of them and his eyes narrowed, his shoulders tense.
I spun and faced Mr. Crumb.
“Don't hurt him. I will get you the money, just don't shoot.”
I heard heavy footfall then a hard yank on my shoulder pulled me back. In the blink of an eye, I was behind Garrison's back. I couldn't even see Mr. Crumb until I stuck my head around Garrison's arm, but he shoved me back once again.
“What the hell is going on?” Garrison growled.
“Just playing a game of cards,” Mr. Crumb replied, his voice filled with nervous apprehension.
“If you're going to shoot me, I want Miss Banks somewhere safe first.”
“No!” I shouted, pushing at Garrison's arm that held me back.
At the mention of the word “shoot”, the other men in the game backed away.
