Rico (The Rock Creek Six Book 3)

by Lori Handeland

  Rico held Johnny’s gaze moment to moment. He’d meant what he said. No one was going to touch this boy as long as Rico was around. Just the thought of someone hurting Johnny in any way made Rico want to slice them up and feed the pieces to the buzzards.

  At last Johnny gave a single, slow nod. Warmth trickled through Rico at the evidence of the boy’s trust. Rico didn’t deserve that, but he would earn it. He wouldn’t shirk a single responsibility. Those in his care would be safe from every harm—or he would die making certain that they were.

  Closing the door behind him, Rico checked on his last charge. Lily would no doubt spit and sputter that she could take care of herself, and she probably could. Her self-sufficiency was one of the things that had drawn him to her. But Rico wouldn’t rest until everyone was tucked safely in their beds. This late-night walk through Three Queens could become a habit.

  Rico cracked Lily’s door, then opened it wider at the sight of an empty bed.

  “Looking for someone?”

  Her head peeked out the door of his room. Rico had a feeling the rest of her was naked.

  “I was looking for a woman.”

  “Any particular type?”

  “You’ll do.” He dived forward, grabbing her around the waist—which was quite naked—kicking the door shut, and twirling her about as she laughed. Tangling her legs with his, she tipped them onto the bed and pulled his mouth close for a long, searching kiss.

  When Rico lifted his head, Lily began to play with his hair. Why he liked that so much, he couldn’t quite figure, but she seemed to enjoy running her fingers through the strands, too.

  “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever.”

  Her flushed cheeks, the sparkle of her eyes, the laughter in her voice pulled at his heart She was so beautiful, so right, and she was his. Rico didn’t ever want to let her go.

  He laid his head on her shoulder. “Me, too,” he whispered. “Forever.”

  Her fingers stilled. “You all right?”

  He thought back on so many years of sadness and strife, war and pain. Friendship but no home. Existence with no love. Loneliness so deep he ached with it always, and now, suddenly, the loneliness was gone.

  “I am now,” he said.

  * * *

  Lily couldn’t sleep. Rico didn’t seem to have that problem. He sprawled across the bed, one leg thrown over hers, his hand cupping her hip as his breath brushed her breast.

  The moon poured in through the window and turned his dark hair silver. She brushed her fingers through the soft strands, and he murmured her name in his sleep then burrowed closer.

  Lily’s eyes burned, and her throat went thick. She really liked him. That was the only word for it—intense like. Nothing to worry about. Rico liked her, too.

  Each time they had sex, the act became more fervent. When he pushed deep inside her and pulsed to the beat of her heart, the feeling of closeness remained with her for hours. When he looked into her eyes as he gasped out her name, she felt as if she could see into his soul.

  Just because she had a harder and harder time leaving him afterward, because she couldn’t imagine ever leaving him for good, shouldn’t make her worry. She should enjoy the here and now.

  But she had an awful premonition that disaster lurked just around the corner. She’d never been this happy, so it followed that something would ruin it soon. Silly thoughts, but Lily had them just the same.

  She slid from Rico’s embrace. He held on tighter. “Don’t go, Lilita.”

  Her heart tumbled to her stomach. She picked up his hand and kissed the palm. “I have to, cheri. What if Carrie has a bad dream and runs to your room?”

  He didn’t answer. He was already asleep again.

  The girl had not climbed into Rico’s bed since coming to live at Three Queens, but sometimes she looked tired in the morning, and Rico said she dreamed of things she would not say. The thought of the brave child being tormented by nightmares tugged at Lily in ways she could not understand.

  Lily put on her nightdress. Rico had scooted into the warm nest where her body had been and pressed his face into her pillow. She passed a hand over his hair one last time then went into the hall. A muffled cry split the night.

  Carrie.

  Should she tell Rico the child dreamed or let Carrie decide on her own if she wanted company? Another cry, sharper and more heart-wrenching than the first, had Lily slipping into the child’s room.

  Carrie had thrashed her covers onto the floor. Her nightgown twisted about her legs, binding her. Her hair was dark with sweat, and her pale face shined slick.

  Lily hovered by the door. Then Carrie sobbed, “Mama? Why did you leave me alone?”

  In an instant Lily was back in the bayou, her mother gone, she herself alone. Lily crossed the room and returned the covers to Carrie’s bed.

  She had few soft memories of her mother. There had been too many nights alone, too many broken promises, too many men more important than Lily, but she did remember her mother singing to her when she was ill. That single, small gesture had been very soothing.

  Lily sat on the bed and hummed a nonsensical tune. Carrie continued to thrash and moan. So Lily sang a lullaby, and as she did, Carrie calmed. By the time she finished, the child lay still. When the last note died away, Carrie’s eyes opened.

  “Sing another.” Carrie inched closer. “Please.”

  How could she refuse such a sweet request for an encore?

  In the middle of the second song, Carrie crawled into Lily’s lap. Lily faltered but managed to finish.

  “How come you’re being so nice?”

  Carrie’s sweaty head dampened the bodice of Lily’s nightdress. Lily ran her fingers through Carrie’s hair, the way Rico always liked her to. The child sighed and cuddled closer. Lily’s heart beat far too fast.

  “Because you’re letting me,” she whispered.

  “I had a dream. My mama left. She didn’t love me much.”

  Lily’s mother hadn’t loved her much, either. The need to make everything all right for the child, overcame Lily’s usual reticence with children. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “If she loved me, she wouldn’t have left me behind. She’d have taken me with her.”

  “If I had a little girl, I’d never let her out of my sight.”

  They sat in companionable silence, Carrie warm and heavy against Lily’s breast, her sweet child’s breath brushing Lily’s neck.

  “How come you didn’t tell Rico about the snake or the vinegar?”

  Lily resisted a near-irresistible urge to kiss Carrie’s damp brow. “That was just between us women.”

  “Really?” Carrie lifted her head. “Us women?”

  “Oui. Men don’t understand such things.”

  “That’s for sure.” The child rolled her eyes as if she were nineteen instead of nine then laid her head back where it had been. “Lily?”

  “Mmm?”

  “You aren’t big and fat and ugly.”

  Lily smiled into the darkness. “Merci.”

  “Can you sing some more?”

  “That would be my pleasure.”

  Chapter 16

  Rico awoke alone. That was not unusual, though he couldn’t say he liked it. He and Lily had agreed to keep up a fiction of separate bedrooms for the sake of the children in their care.

  Since Carrie already knew what was going on and Johnny didn’t seem the slow sort, Rico figured their sneaking about was unnecessary, and Lily’s continued insistence on it made Rico wonder how many times she’d found her mother with a man.

  Rico always made sure the door was locked behind them—just in case Carrie wandered in. He didn’t relish waking up in bed with Lily to find Carrie staring at him with angry eyes.

  And Carrie would be angry, because she seemed to have a vendetta against Lily. He wasn’t sure what to do about that, except let them work things out on their own.

  Dressed and washed, Rico stepped into the hall and heard voices
from Carrie’s room. He paused outside the half-open door.

  “Cherie, you cannot continue to swear like a mule skinner. It’s very unpleasant in a sweet-faced child like yourself.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Have you ever seen Rico’s face when you curse?”

  “Yeah.” The sigh that followed was long and world-weary. “He feels bad. Why? It’s not his fault.”

  The two spoke civilly, almost as if they had become friends.

  “People seem to believe the worst of him. I can’t understand why. He’s afraid you’ll be taken away again if he can’t raise you right.”

  “There’s not a damn thing wrong with me.”

  What was he going to do with her? He had no idea how to be a father. All he knew how to do was love her.

  “I never said there was anything wrong with you. But there are times when a woman must do what she must do in order to have what she wants.”

  Rico leaned closer until he could see the two of them on the bed. Both in white nightgowns, their heads close together, they made a picture so lovely and right, Rico’s eyes burned.

  “What do I have to do?” Carrie asked.

  “Don’t swear.”

  “But sometimes, Lily, only a cuss word will do.”

  “I agree.”

  She did? Since when?

  “But there is a way to curse and sound very refined.”

  “How?”

  “If you promise to swear less, I will teach you to do so in French. You will sound ‘oh, so genteel,’ and no one will have the slightest idea what you’re saying.”

  “You will?”

  “Of course. I learned to swear in French from one of the highest-paid—” Lily coughed. “Um, a woman I met from Paris. She knew all the best curse words. And the French have some we don’t in English.”

  “Really?” Carrie breathed, her face alight with awe.

  Rico backed away. Sometime during the night the two had made peace. Why and how, he did not care. It seemed Carrie needed a woman’s touch, and as long as she’d gotten it, he was happy.

  Rico left them to their cussing lesson. Halfway through his first cup of coffee, the saloon doors swung open to admit Reese, Sullivan, and Jed, which could only mean trouble.

  The three joined him at the table, and Reese got to the point. “There’s a man in town asking questions about Lily.”

  “Talked to each one of us,” Jed put in.

  “And a few other folks, too,” said Sullivan.

  “What kind of questions?”

  “Where she’s from.”

  “How long she’s been here and how she came to own the saloon.”

  “If she’s partial to knives.”

  “He asked each one of us that,” Jed said, “and to be truthful, Kid, we all had a story to tell about a knife and Lily.”

  “But you didn’t tell it.”

  “Of course not,” Reese said. “I think she’s hiding something. This just proves it. But we know better than to answer questions just because some stranger comes to town asking them.”

  “Who is this guy?”

  “He was in here when I brought the children home the other day.”

  “Wyndham?”

  “No. Blond hair, lawman’s eyes.”

  “He was watching Lily.”

  “I noticed that, too. But then a lot of men watch Lily.”

  “And they always will,” Rico said. “Where did our curious friend go?”

  Reese raised his gaze from Rico to the door. Slowly, Rico stood and turned. The others formed a line behind him.

  “Name’s Noah Russell,” the man said.

  Rico did not introduce himself. Russell had been asking questions. He already knew the name of everyone in the room.

  “I’m with the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

  If Rico had learned one thing from his friends, it was to keep quiet as long as he could. Eventually people spilled everything. They just couldn’t help themselves. Noah Russell did not prove an exception to this rule.

  “I was hired by a widow in New Orleans to find the murderer of her husband, Randolph Ward. Recognize the name?”

  Rico shook his head.

  “Carpetbagger. Found with a neat slice in his heart. His mistress, Betty Lillian, disappeared that same night. She was a singer of some renown in the American section of New Orleans. Her piano player disappeared, too. Boy by the name of Jean Baptiste. He—”

  A crash had all five men reaching for their guns. Johnny stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his face as pale as the shards of crockery at his feet.

  * * *

  Lily was on her way downstairs when she heard the crash. Johnny saw her and rushed over, his mouth was moving frantically. Lily shook her head, and he remained silent.

  “What frightened him?” she demanded. Then her gaze fell on the stranger who’d watched her yesterday. “Who are you?”

  “Russell, ma’am. Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

  “Go to your room, Johnny. Now.”

  He started to shake his head, but a glance from her had him taking the stairs; his feet dragged on every step.

  Lily crossed the room to stand next to Rico. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled away, hiding it in the folds of her skirt. Until she knew exactly what R.W. was up to sending a Pinkerton detective after them, she would need all her faculties. Whenever she touched Rico, she lost a bit of her mind.

  “What do you want, Mr. Russell?” Best to take the offense. This was, after all, her place.

  “Do you know a man named Randolph Ward?”

  She thought quickly. No reason to lie. She had nothing to hide. “Certainly.”

  “You’re Betty Lillian.”

  “I was.”

  One of Rico’s friends cursed, which made her uneasy. What difference did her name make to the ownership of Three Queens?

  “Why did you change your name?”

  “New name, new life. I’m not the only one who changes their name and comes to Texas.”

  “Most of them are on the run. What were you running from, Miss Lillian?”

  “Miss Fortier,” she corrected. “R.W. would have tried to stop me from leaving. He thought I owed him my life. I believed differently. When Three Queens came into my possession, I left. If he feels I’m obliged to him in some way, we can work it out. There was no reason to hire a detective.”

  Russell frowned. “You stole this place?”

  “I won it fair and square in a poker game. I did nothing wrong.”

  “Except stick your ever-present knife into Randolph Ward’s heart.”

  “I ...” Dizziness rushed over Lily. “He was alive when I left him.”

  “That’s what they all say, lady.” Russell moved forward as if to take her arm.

  Rico stepped in his way. “I do not think so, amigo.”

  “I have orders to take her to New Orleans for trial.”

  The man reached into his pocket. The next instant three guns were trained on him, with a knife to his neck. Lily hadn’t seen Rico draw his blade. That he had, for her, made her throat tight and achy. For all he knew, she was a cold-blooded murderess, yet he defended her without question.

  “I was just going to get the court papers.” To his credit, Russell didn’t look scared. Rico lifted the knife from the man’s throat but kept himself between Lily and the detective. “Sheriff?” Russell handed a piece of parchment to Sullivan.

  He glanced at it, frowned, then handed the paper to Reese. Jed sidled over and read it, too. All three stared at her. Why did that make her feel guilty? She hadn’t done it.

  She should feel regret for the death of a man she’d known a very long time. But she didn’t.

  “Why is a Pinkerton detective on this case?” Sullivan asked. “Looks like something for a U.S. marshal.”

  “The widow didn’t think the law enforcement agency was taking the case seriously enough.”

  “R.W. was married?” This was the first she’d heard of it.r />
  “Come now, Miss Fortier.” Russell put a sarcastic twist on her new name, “You’d been the man’s mistress for years and you didn’t know he had a wife?”

  “He never mentioned one in all our time together.”

  “Until perhaps that last night? Is that why you killed him?”

  “What do I have to do to make you believe I didn’t kill him?”

  “That’s for the judge to decide. I will take you back. Your friends can’t ignore the law.”

  Jed snorted. Reese laughed. Even Sullivan’s lips twitched. Rico was the only one who didn’t look amused. He caressed his knife as he had caressed her body only hours before.

  “I’ll go,” Lily blurted.

  “You will not,” Rico snapped.

  “Rico,” Sullivan said. “She has to. The warrant is real.”

  “This is Texas. People disappear every damn day.”

  “She won’t disappear,” Russell said. “Now that I’ve found her, I’m not letting Betty Lillian out of my sight.”

  Turning his blade so the morning light hit the silver and made it sparkle, Rico smiled at last. “I was not talking about her.”

  The detective glanced at the other men. “You heard him threaten me.”

  “Nope,” Jed said.

  “Not me,” Reese agreed.

  “Sheriff?”

  “Didn’t hear a word,” Sullivan said.

  Frustration crept over the detective’s face. “I heard about y’all even before I came here. The Rock Creek Six, though you look about two short. I thought you were the good guys.”

  Reese rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Me, too. Maybe she should go back, Rico. Just to get everything straightened out.”

  “No,” Rico said, at the same time, Lily said, “Yes.”

  “Lily, let me handle this.”

  “I’m not going to let you kill someone for me.”

  “Who said anything about killing?”

  Lily raised her eyebrows; Rico glanced away.

  “I don’t want to look over my shoulder forever,” she said. “I’ll go to New Orleans. I’ll get it settled.” Lily touched Rico’s arm. “I didn’t do it.”

  “There was never any question.”

  Lily didn’t know what to say.

  Russell muttered something about “love” and “blind.”