In his fury to catch up with Julia, he’d allowed Dunbar to sneak past him without even noticing.
“Calm down.” He jammed the Colt into his waistband and ripped the revolver from her fist. He shoved it into his pocket. Both hands gripped her shoulders. He shook her body while calling her name.
“Payton?” Her eyes opened wide. Her body trembled violently beneath his hold. As a result, her legs went limp, and she almost collapsed onto the floor, but he held her upright.
He needed answers, but they stood in the doorway of a room that contained a dead man. His murderer might still be near, and their lives could be in danger. They had to get away from here first.
He dragged her behind him as he hurried down the hallway. When they reached the front door, he threw it open so hard it hit the wall and bounced back against his shoulder, but he didn’t slow his pace.
Julia stumbled on the boarded walk and fell. Payton jerked her up by her wrist. He hurried down the street while hauling her after him. All the while he kept an eye out for Dunbar.
He never ceased their rapid retreat until they reached the Double Eagle Shipping Company. When they entered the bedroom, he released her by flinging her in the direction of the bed.
Striking a match, he lit the lamp so he could keep watch over her. She might try to get away from him again. At the lodging house, she’d beat on him with her fist in an attempt to escape his hold.
When he looked at her, he saw the exhaustion that wracked her body. No longer able to run, she lay curled up at the end of the bed. Her chest heaved hard and heavy with each breath. Beads of sweat covered her face. Her hair hung loose. Long, blonde strands clung to her damp cheeks.
He stripped off his jacket and cap and threw them across the room. His Colt was shoved into his waistband. He removed the revolver and slammed it on top of the dresser.
After a few minutes, her breathing slowed. She pushed herself upright on the bed. Her cloak twisted around her body. She unfastened the button at her throat, allowing the cloak to fall away. Her eyes darted around the room. “Why did you bring me here? I don’t want to be in this room.”
“Stay right there.” He took a step toward her when she attempted to get off the bed. His hands curled into fists. “I’ve never stuck a woman, but I am dangerously close at this moment.”
She stared at him in opened-mouth shock.
“I want some answers.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Better yet,” he said, his voice rising in pace with his anger, “what the bloody hell are you doing here?”
When she didn’t answer, he supplied one for her. “I suppose you’re interviewing for another governess position.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Her voice trembled. “Why are you acting like this?”
“What’s wrong?” He shook his head. “I find you alone in a room with a man whose throat has been slit and you ask me what’s wrong?”
“How did you find me?” She sat up straighter. “Have you been following me?”
“I don’t need to follow you, Julia. All I have to do is follow the trail of dead men you leave in your wake.”
Her back stiffened. “I haven’t killed anyone.”
“No, but I’ve killed a few men.” He looked her over coolly. “But the night’s still early. Who knows, I just might end up killing a woman before morning comes.”
Her lips trembled, and her eyes misted over with tears. “If you hate me that much,” she shouted in a hoarse voice, “why don’t you just shoot me now and get it over with?”
“Hate you?” He looked at her in wonder. “If only I could.”
As he paced around the room, he thrust his fingers roughly through his hair while trying to regain some control over his emotions, but what he really needed was an explanation. He stopped in front of the bed where she sat.
“You promised me you’d stay in Sacramento. You swore you’d stay out of trouble. Were you deliberately lying to my face when you made that oath?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Mrs. Collins made me come with her.”
“You expect me to believe she dragged you all the way here?”
“We traveled by steamer.” Her hand went to her mouth. “I was sick the entire time.”
“Why did she bring you? What were you supposed to do for her?”
“What?” Her forehead wrinkled.
He let out a huff. She seemed dazed, but he didn’t buy into it—not yet anyway. He still wanted answers.
“Why did Betsy bring you to San Francisco?” he repeated slowly and deliberately so there wouldn’t be any mistake in what he wanted to know.
“She’s dead.” Her fingers pressed against her forehead. Her hand covered her face. “I watched that man kill her. He beat her to death right in front of me.” Her body went limp. She leaned against the foot post of the bed.
To Payton, her dismay seemed genuine. His heart softened—but not much. Too many unanswered questions remained. “Why did you go to the lodging house?”
“I followed that man.” She swiped a trembling hand across her face as if to wipe away a cold sweat. “He said he knew where Lawrence Dunbar hid. I thought he would lead me to him.”
“You followed a man who had just murdered a woman?” He couldn’t believe what he just heard. “You wanted to find Dunbar that bad.”
“Yes.” Her thoughts seemed to focus. “I had to find him.”
“Why?” He shouted as his anger raged. “Was he your lover?”
Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly squeezed it shut. Her lips curled back into a snarl as fiery hatred flashed in her eyes. “Not even in hell, but I’d like to put him there.”
Startled by her response, he stared at her. His mind grasped for an explanation, but he found none. “If he’s not your lover, then why were you looking for him?”
Her lips quivered, but she tightened them into a grimace. “I want him dead. He killed my brother,” she said through gritted teeth.
The anguish on her face and the intensity of her voice convinced him she spoke the truth. He stared at her in stunned silence.
His anger had caused him to jump to wrong conclusions. Rage had twisted his thoughts. His wild imagination had pictured her as Dunbar’s lover. But it wasn’t true. She hated Dunbar.
The grief from her brother’s death had been her driving force. She sought Dunbar purely out of revenge. Her need for retribution had propelled her headlong into the dangerous task of finding his killer.
His hands unclenched and his shoulders drooped. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He took a step closer, but when he did, his legs went weak. He dropped to his knees in front of her. A moment ago his mind had conceived horrendous images of her lying with Dunbar. He’d thought of killing her—even threatened to do so, but he could never do that. He loved her. No matter what she did, if she loved another and not him, he could never take her life.
He lowered his head in shame.
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Julia stared at the top of his head. His hair was matted down from the knit cap he’d worn. A thick growth of beard covered his lower face and neck.
When she’d first bumped into him outside that room, she’d not recognized him. He looked so different from the last she’d seen him; he even acted differently.
Her body had been numb with fear from all the death she’d witnessed. And grabbing her as he did, pushed her into a hysterical state. Her only thought had been to get away.
Payton had appeared from nowhere and had been angry. He’d dragged her through the streets and brought her to this den of debauchery. She didn’t understand any of it.
She knew he sought Dunbar. But why?
What had Ritter said? He’d mentioned something about Payton and Dunbar together on a ship, but her mind whirled with confusion. She needed him to explain what it all meant. She wanted to hear him say it so she could understand.
“Why are you looking for Lawrence Dunbar?”
His head came up slowly. His eyelids looked heavy. He licked at his lips as though his mouth had gone dry.
“I want him in hell also.” He sat back on his heels. His hands rested on his thighs. He lifted one hand, but dropped it back against his leg. “I never should have treated you like this. I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t know why he’d acted as he did, but he’d fallen on his knees in front of her. And he begged for her forgiveness.
Tears clouded her eyes as her face contorted with her misery. Her lips quivered, and her body trembled. She leaned forward and put both hands against the sides of his face. He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her to him. She slid off the bed and into his arms. He embraced her as her tears flowed. His lips pressed against her damp skin. He placed kisses over her cheeks and eyelids.
“I was so furious—” He hugged her tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
After her crying subsided, she blotted at the tears with her sleeve. “I need a handkerchief.”
He stood and lifted her with him. Gently, he sat her on the bed before going to the dresser. He pulled a clean, white handkerchief from a drawer.
She was puzzled with his familiarity of the room, especially since it once belonged to Wilber Hennigan. She could only stare when he offered her the handkerchief. “Why did you bring me here to this room?”
He glanced around as if suddenly aware of where they were. “There was no other place. This is where I’ve been staying.”
“You’re living here?” Her eyebrows lifted.
“This is all I can afford.” He made a half-hearted attempt to smile. “I didn’t expect you to arrive so soon. I’m afraid we’ll have to live here for a while, but at least I don’t have to pay rent.”
“And why is that?”
“I bought the Double Eagle. Until the business starts showing a profit, I can’t spend money for a place to live.”
“You bought this shipping company?” Her mouth verged on the edge of dropping open. “Why?”
“So we’d never have to be apart again.” He sat beside her on the bed and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Being apart these last few weeks has been agony. I don’t want to be away from you again.”
“I’ve missed you so much.” She nuzzled her cheek against his chest.
“I’ve missed you, too. I’m glad you’re here.” Both arms went around her and he hugged her tight. “My God, Julia, I can’t believe how I found you. If something would’ve happened to you, if I’d lost you, I’d die.”
“I thought I’d lost you.” Her body shivered. “I didn’t know where you were. I was so sick that I thought I was going to die.”
“You’re safe now. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” He grabbed both pillows and propped them against the headboard so he could lean against them. He kicked off his boots, curled his legs up on the bed, and pulled Julia into his lap so he could cuddle her in his arms.
“This day has been horrible.” She lay against his chest with her head nestled under his chin.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He smoothed her tousled hair back from her face.
He could not have stopped her. Words tumbled from her lips as if she had no control. She knew she babbled, but she went on about everything that had happened. She told him of her nauseous voyage on the steamer. Of being held against her will in the brothel. Watching Betsy beaten brutally to death. Discovering Ritter’s dead body. Her story ended with Payton finding her, although it wasn’t the fairytale rescue she would have preferred.
“I know I treated you roughly. Can you ever forgive?”
“I already have.” She snuggled closer.
“I’m going to take good care of you from now on.” He squeezed her to him. “I never want you to have another day like this one.”
She almost laughed. “Neither do I.”
“Julia.” His tone hushed. “Do you want to tell me about your brother’s death?”
“There’s not much to tell other than Lawrence Dunbar killed him.”
“How do you know it was Dunbar?”
“Reggie wrote a letter as he was dying. Almost his first sentence named his killer. I don’t know what was in the rest of his letter. Mother burned it. Then she died a few days later.”
“Why did she burn his letter?”
“I’ve often wondered that myself. She was ill. The news of his death was a terrible shock. I suppose, in her mind, if there wasn’t a letter saying he was dead, then it couldn’t be true. But it was true.” Her heart ached as if she’d just read the words for the first time. “When it seemed that the authorities weren’t in a hurry to pursue his killer, I decided to go after him myself.”
“Yourself?” he blurted out as if horrified. “Is that why you’ve been working for Betsy? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
She didn’t bother to answer. She figured he deserved a chance to rant.
After a moment, his muscles relaxed. He let out a long breath. “It doesn’t matter what you did. You’re safe now.”
“No one seemed interested in bringing him to justice,” she said in her defense. “I sent letters to several agencies, but the responses were always the same—I was just a woman. I shouldn’t concern myself with matters that are better left to men. They wouldn’t even give me the particulars of my brother’s death other than he died during a pirate attack.”
“It’s all right.” His hand soothed down her back. “It’s over with now.”
“But it’s not.” She looked at his face and hoped he understood her motive. “The man who killed my brother is still free. I want justice for his death. That’s why I set out to find Dunbar myself.”
“And just what did you intend to do? Hunt him down and capture him all by yourself?”
“Something like that.” She looked away from his gaze.
“Like what?” He pulled at her chin and forced her to look at him. “Did you intend to kill him?”
“I won’t lie. I’ve thought about it. There were times when I pictured the scene in my mind. I’d have a gun in my hand. I’d pull the trigger and watch him die right in front of me.” She could see the disapproving look in his eyes. She jerked her chin from his hand. “I was raised on Old Testament justice. An eye for an eye.”
“That’s sounds like murder to me. You talk like killing a man in cold blood is easy, but it’s not. Do you really think you have the stomach to look a man in the eye and shoot him dead?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” He shook his head. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but the people who advised you to stay out of this were right.”
“Because I’m a woman?” Her anger flared.
“No, because it’s too dangerous. Think of the tally of dead bodies since you’ve gotten involved in this.”
“Are you saying their deaths were my fault?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Mr. Hennigan perhaps,” she said over his words. “I should have prevented him from shooting himself, but it happened so quickly.”
“That wasn’t your fault. But you shouldn’t have been here with him. You could have been the one killed. If you hadn’t run into me that night... If I hadn’t helped you... Bloody hell, Julia. My mind reels in horror at what might have happened to you that night.” One dark eyebrow arched as he gave her a deliberate look. “From this moment on, you’re finished with this revenge of yours. I’ll find Dunbar and make certain he receives the justice he deserves.”
The thought of her brother’s death hardened her heart. “You might be able to prevent me from searching for him, but when you find him, I want to be there when he dies.”
“If you want to watch him die, you can come to his hanging. But if you expect me to kill him for you, you can forget it. I won’t kill a man in cold blood, not even to prove how much I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Payton heated water on the small s
tove in the front office so they could rinse away the filth and grime.
Julia removed her dark blue gown and washed off the sweat produced by fear and exertion. With nothing else to wear, she slipped into one of Payton’s clean white shirts. A chill developed in the room from the cool San Francisco night. She wrapped a blanket around her waist to cover her legs.
Droplets of Betsy’s dried blood were splattered across the front of her gown. Her other belongings were packed in the bag she’d left at the Crystal Palace. Even if she could retrieve her bag, she had nothing in it to wear. The only gown available would be the bottle green outfit she’d worn on the steamer when she’d gotten sick. She didn’t want to imagine what had splattered across the skirt of that gown.
Payton had washed in the front office, allowing her privacy, but came into the bedroom where he stored his razor.
Fascinated with the process, she sat in a chair and studied him as he shaved away the bearded growth. His damp hair was swept back from his forehead. Shaving lather streaked his face and neck. With his shirt removed, her gaze followed the path of dark hair swirling over his muscular chest until it narrowed to a slender line and circled his navel. The thin strip of hair continued down his flat belly and disappeared beneath his trousers.
She leaned to the side for a better view of his backside. The muscles in his back rippled as he stroked the straight razor across his cheek. Without the bulky tails of a shirt tucked in, his trousers rode lower on his hips. She noticed a tuft of hair in the small of his back that looked fine and downy soft. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she thought about threading her nails through the soft tangle. Her gazed moved down his body. The heavy material of his trousers couldn’t hide his form. The muscles of his bottom where firm and tight. His legs were strong, his thighs hard. The splendor of his body amazed her.
They had been apart for a couple of weeks, but he’d never been out her thoughts longer than a few minutes. He was her husband. She loved him dearly.
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