Sullivan (The Rock Creek Six Book 2)

by Linda Winstead Jones

Cash told a story about his brief stay in the hotel and a run-in he’d had with Grady once, an unpleasant experience that was now humorous and touching. The shopkeeper Baxter Sutton, Rose’s husband who owned and operated Rock Creek’s general store, talked about how Grady had always tried to bargain down everything he bought. He seemed to remember their sometimes unpleasant encounters with great affection, now that Grady was gone.

  Eden sliced the pie and began to serve, setting a piece before each man. Staying busy kept her from crying. Whether she felt like crying because of Sin or Grady, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  The men continued to talk, and a few of them picked at their pie. When she placed a plate before Baxter Sutton, he looked at it and grimaced.

  “Is this dried apple pie? No, thanks,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at the dessert. “I’ve had enough dried apple pie to last any two men a lifetime. Swore the last time I choked down a piece that I’d never eat it again.”

  He surely didn’t mean the refusal as a personal insult, but Eden took it as such. It was all too much, and everything hit her at once. She hadn’t been able to save Grady, she wasn’t going to be able to keep Sin, Baxter Sutton hated her pie, and what was she going to do with this big old hotel?

  She turned quickly away from Sutton, and tears sprung to her eyes.

  The laughter in the room stopped with a suddenness that startled Eden. Rico, who sat at the table next to Sutton, rose smoothly and quickly, slipping a very large knife from a sheath at his waist and flipping it in his hand with incredible ease. He stepped around Eden and placed the blade at Sutton’s throat.

  “Eat the pie,” he said softly.

  Sutton’s eyes got big as saucers. “Sure, sure,” he muttered, careful not to move against the knife that was held casually and expertly at this throat.

  “Rico, don’t,” Eden said softly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Rico raised dark eyes to her. He was deadly serious. “You made the pie, he is going to eat it.”

  Moving blindly, since he was unable to move his head without risking injury, Sutton picked up his fork and took a stab at the pie. He raised a small piece to his mouth and took a bite.

  “It’s good,” he said shakily. “Great.”

  In a lightning-fast move, Rico removed the knife from Sutton’s throat. With a satisfied smile on his face he reclaimed his seat to eat his own piece of pie. Eden only had to glance around to see that every man in the room was diligently eating their dessert. Every man but Cash, who stared at her with soulless dark eyes, and Sin, who looked at her with a half smile on his handsome face.

  “It really is quite good,” Sutton said, sounding as if he meant it.

  A few other compliments filled the air, some sounding sincere, others prompted, she was sure, by Rico’s unnecessary defense of her baking skills.

  Going into the kitchen felt like escape. She closed the window against a sudden rush of cool air and began to clean up the mess she’d made fixing supper for all these men.

  She was wiping down her worktable when she found the note, a single sheet of paper pinned to the cutting board with a long, thin-bladed knife. Chills danced down her spine as she read the large, crudely fashioned letters.

  Get out of town while you still can.

  With a great effort, she drew the knife from the cutting board and lifted the note to read it again. Was it a threat of some kind? A warning? She looked toward the window she had just closed and an unpleasant chill danced down her spine. The door that opened onto what had once been a vegetable garden was latched securely shut. Had someone climbed through the window and left this note for her?

  She carried the note to the dining room, rereading it as she walked slowly. The mood of the men was jovial once again, the dried apple pie incident already forgotten. Eden didn’t hear the laughter or the loud words, just a low, constant buzz, and in the crowded dining room she saw only one man.

  “Sin?” she said softly, holding aloft the note.

  Chapter 9

  Sullivan’s heart nearly stopped as he read the short note again, running his finger over the tear in the paper where the knife had pierced it. Leaving the others behind, he took Eden’s arm and led her into the deserted hotel lobby. A single lantern burned on the front desk.

  “You found it on the cutting board,” he said calmly, repeating what she’d already told him. “The rear door was latched, but the window was open?”

  Eden nodded. “Is this a threat of some kind?” she asked in a small voice. “Have I offended someone so much that they want to... to run me out of town?” It was clear by the tone of her voice that this was a foreign experience for her, not being liked.

  “Looks that way. Unless the note was meant for someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Lydia, maybe.” There was no one else who would’ve been in the kitchen.

  “Lydia left here last night and I haven’t seen her since. I don’t think... I think this note was meant for me.” She lifted frightened eyes, and the look she cast at him cut to the bone. “Who would want me to leave town so badly that they’d threaten me?”

  A surge of anger rushed through Sullivan’s tense body. Cash. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  The day had taken its toll on Eden. Her eyes were tired, and the smile she gave him was not her best effort. “Somehow I knew you would,” she whispered. “You won’t leave now, will you? I mean, you don’t have to leave tomorrow morning. You can stay until this predicament is resolved, can’t you?”

  What choice did he have? The idea of leaving Eden here to face Cash alone was inconceivable. It would be like watching a kitten do battle with a panther. “I won’t leave until I know you’re safe.”

  She smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly, and her whole face brightened with relief and... what was that? Contentment?

  “Walk me to my room?” she asked simply. “There’s nothing left to do in the kitchen that can’t wait until morning. Besides, I have this strange urge to check on the children.”

  He walked beside her. They were halfway up the stairs when she slipped her arm easily through his. He didn’t fight it. How could he without giving away too much?

  Eden stopped outside her door and looked up at him. The light from the single lamp in the second-story hallway hit her just so, illuminating her softly but completely. “Don’t go away,” she whispered. “I want to peek in on the children.”

  She opened the door and slipped inside, and Sullivan watched as she looked down first at Millie, straightening the quilt over the little girl, and then did the same for Teddy, smiling as she pulled the quilt over his shoulder. Sullivan looked around himself, to make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows. Surely Cash wouldn’t go that far!

  Ah, Daniel Cash was capable of just about anything. He’d be smart to remember that.

  Eden closed the door behind her as she returned to the hallway. “They had a hard day, too, and they’re both sleeping like babies.”

  She placed her hand on his forearm, and her fingers, barely touching him, set off a riot of sensations throughout his entire body. Why her? The question Cash had asked whispered in Sullivan’s brain. Why, of all the women in Texas, did he have to lust after Eden Rourke?

  He reminded himself of why she was here, why she came to him so easily, why she looked at him this way. He was just one of her strays, a convenient body to keep her from being alone until a better, more suitable man came along.

  And he’d made it easy for her, playing along, trying so hard not to offend or distress the perfect Miss Rourke. Maybe he should put a little scare into her himself, show her what she was playing with.

  He scooped Eden into his arms and kissed her hard, without warning, without asking, without tenderness. He forced her lips apart and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, speared his fingers through the hair at the back of her head and held her tight against him. He pressed his arousal against her, letting her know just exactly what she was
playing with.

  The sudden move shocked her into stillness, but her inertia didn’t last long. Her first response was a softening, a subtle yielding, and then she kissed him back hungrily and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tight and tasting him deep.

  A kiss, no matter how fervent, would not be enough to scare Eden Rourke. He should’ve known. He pressed her back against the wall and crushed their bodies together, placing a hand on her hip, tracing her curves with his palm, digging his fingers into her flesh and caressing her boldly through layers of brown linen and petticoats. She was so small, so delicate. So passionate in her response.

  She wasn’t at all afraid. He raised his hand to her breast and stroked her with insistent fingers. A sharp intake of breath revealed her surprise, but she didn’t move away or protest. He tweaked her nipple and she gasped, but it was a gasp that came from somewhere deep inside, and it spoke not of shock but of pleasant surprise.

  He soon forgot why he’d begun this, as Eden threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him hard. He wanted to lay her on the floor right there and bury himself inside her, to hell with all the reasons he shouldn’t.

  She pulled her mouth from his and laid her head against his shoulder. Breathing deeply and erratically, she whispered, “This is happening so fast.”

  “Not fast enough to suit me,” he muttered.

  She laughed, breathless and light. “I should get to bed.”

  “Yes, you should,” Sullivan whispered, kissing her again.

  She didn’t miss his meaning. “I’m sorry. You know I can’t....”

  “I know. I know,” he said as he released her. He’d tried to terrify Eden into letting go of this impossible relationship, and he’d ended up confusing himself. “You’re a nice girl.”

  “You make that sound like something bad,” she said, a trace of humor in her voice.

  “Right now, it is.”

  “Good night, Sin,” she whispered.

  Sin. The way she said his name sent chills down his spine. It made him want more, in the same way her response to his touch made him want more.

  She closed the door in his face.

  * * *

  Sullivan waited until the others had left and only Cash, Rico, and Nate remained in the dining room. He dropped the note so that it fluttered onto the table, landing directly in front of Cash.

  “You want to explain this?”

  Cash gave the note a quick glance. “The penmanship is atrocious,” he said casually.

  Sullivan snatched up the note and waved it in Cash’s face. “Tell me you didn’t send this to scare Eden into leaving Rock Creek,” he seethed. “Damn it, Cash...”

  “I didn’t send that ridiculous note,” Cash said, glancing up. He was irritated, but not angry. “If I ever decide to take matters into my own hands and rid the town of Miss Rourke, I will do it with some style, you can be assured. This,” he said, flicking his fingers at the note, “is an amateurish attempt at harassment.”

  Rico snatched the paper from Sullivan’s hand. “Someone has threatened Eden?”

  Cash tsked and leaned back in his chair. “Take note, Sullivan, and beware. It seems you have competition for Miss Rourke’s affections in the form of our own knife-wielding Romeo. When the kid threatened poor Sutton in order to make the man eat a slice of pie, I knew there would be trouble.”

  Sullivan ignored Cash and tried to think of someone who might want Eden out of town, but came up with nothing. Rico started muttering in quietly spoken Spanish. Nate comforted himself with another drink. It was Cash who came up with an answer.

  “I think our lovely Miss Rourke wrote the note, herself,” he said calmly.

  “What? That’s ridiculous.” Sullivan towered over a seated Cash with clenched fists.

  “Is it really?” Cash asked calmly. “You want to leave town; she doesn’t want you to go. What better way to keep you here than to give you a... a task, if you will. A mission, perhaps. You and I both know you will not leave town while Miss Rourke is in danger, and that, my dear Sullivan, is why you should know without question that I did not write that ludicrous note.”

  Cash made sense, so much so that Sullivan sat down, deflated. He didn’t believe for a moment that Eden wrote that note herself. She’d been genuinely frightened, and unless he had seriously misjudged her, she wouldn’t use deception to get her way.

  But if not Cash, who?

  * * *

  With the children off for school, Eden’s only decision was which chore to attack first. The hotel was such a wreck, she felt it would be a very long time before she was able to rest.

  Since the lobby was the first thing people saw when they entered the building, that would be the first room to be thoroughly cleaned and remodeled.

  The long front desk was made of a fine wood. It had been scuffed and scratched, truly battered here and there, but with a little polish and a lot of elbow grease it would suffice. The brass bell needed a polishing, too, and the leather-bound guest book was dusty, but it had many blank pages and would serve for some time.

  The upholstered furniture in the middle of the large room, a dark green sofa and matching chairs, was faded, but would do for the moment. The pieces needed a good cleaning, but they were sturdy and functional. She could imagine someday replacing the grouping with truly elegant furnishings. Eden was planning ahead and sweeping the bare wood floor when Sin came down the stairs.

  “Good morning,” she said with a smile, remembering last night’s kiss. Well, it had been much more than a kiss. Goodness, she’d almost told Sin she loved him, right there in the hallway while he had his hands on her in a most improper way. “Did you sleep well?”

  “No,” he grumbled. “Did you?”

  She nodded her head, thinking of the warmth that had rushed through her as she’d huddled beneath her quilt. The dreams that had followed remained with her still. “I slept very well, thank you.”

  He mumbled something obscene and headed for the dining room.

  Eden leaned her broom against the front desk and followed him. “I’ll make you some eggs,” she said. “And bacon and grits. There are biscuits left from the children’s breakfast. I’ll warm them for you....”

  “Just a biscuit,” he said. “And coffee.”

  “Oh, you need a bigger breakfast than that....”

  “I don’t want a bigger breakfast,” he said with a surly glance over his shoulder. “A biscuit. Coffee.”

  Eden lifted her eyebrows. “Well, someone certainly got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  Sin sat in a chair at a small round table for two, stretching his long legs out and leaning back slightly to look at her. “Forget the biscuit and coffee and come here,” he ordered in a low voice.

  With a smile, she went to him. When he indicated that she was to sit in the chair beside him, she did so, perching on the edge of the seat, waiting for what was to come next. Another kiss, perhaps?

  But Sin didn’t look like he intended to kiss her. He was obviously tense. A muscle high in his cheek jerked, and his hands were placed too casually on his legs as he sat there and glared at her.

  “Tell me, Eden, are you most like your mother or your father?”

  It was an unexpected question, but one she was glad to answer. Perhaps he simply wanted to know more about her and was shy about asking such personal questions.

  “Jedidiah and I both have our father’s coloring, but he got mother’s curly hair and I didn’t. In temperament, I am very much like my mother. Jedidiah is more like our father, everyone says. He died when I was five, and I really don’t remember him well, so I can’t say for certain.”

  “Exactly how are you like your mother?” he asked.

  It was an easy enough question to answer. “She had no tolerance for injustice, and neither do I. Blue was her favorite color, and it’s also mine, and strawberries make me break out in hives. She couldn’t eat them, either.” She cocked her head and stared at him quizzically. “Is that
the sort of thing you want to know?”

  “It’ll do,” he said, setting his eyes on hers. His face hardened, his eyes narrowed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. She still had no idea why Sin was asking these questions, but it was obviously not a pleasant moment for him.

  “Now I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone else.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He must love her, if he was going to share his deepest secrets. She scooted her chair a little bit closer.

  “My father was Comanche,” he said quietly.

  Eden nodded her head once.

  “I guess you know, from everything I’ve said, that I have mixed blood. Comanche and Irish.”

  “I know,” she whispered, ready to tell him that she didn’t care. “A lot of people are of mixed blood. Teddy and Rico each had a Mexican parent.” Oh, she wanted to make this easy for him, to tell him he had no reason to ever fear telling her anything. “If you think it matters to me...”

  “You’ve probably manufactured an idyllic story in the back of your mind, something... pleasant and romantic,” he interrupted. “A woman who leaves her family behind for love, a man who breaks tradition to be with the woman who’s stolen his heart.” His eyes grew dark and hard to read. “But the truth is, my father was a Comanche renegade, a thief and a rapist. He and two white men banded together and terrorized three counties for months. Drunk and laughing, having a grand old time, they robbed, burned, and murdered. One night they raided my grandfather’s farm and found my mother there alone. They beat and raped her, and then they left her for dead.”

  Tears welled up in Eden’s eyes. She reached out to touch Sin, but he waved her back with an impatient hand.

  “She was fifteen at the time.”

  Eden stifled a cry, biting her lower lip and grasping her hands in her lap.

  “My father and the other two were hanged for their crimes before I was born, before my mother even knew I existed. Fiona Sullivan, who from all accounts was a lovely young woman before the attack, was never quite right after that night. She was, for lack of a better word, crazy. When I was fourteen she went down to the river and didn’t come back. She drowned herself,” he said without emotion.