Her hands had been equally busy, stripping away his tie, his coat, his vest, his shirt, until he wore only his trousers.
Their gazes met then, hers supplying the assurance that his sought.
“I think I’ve been looking for you my whole life,” he murmured, and sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to bed.
His bed. Every night since he had moved out of this room, she had imagined lying here in his arms, running her hands over his skin, through his hair, feeling his hands moving over her body. Reality, she mused, was ever so much better.
The sheets were cool in vivid contrast to the heat of Alejandro’s body as he pressed her down onto the mattress, his body a welcome weight. She ran her hands over his back and shoulders, over his buttocks and thighs, wanting to touch all of him at once.
“Rio…” She gasped as the need within her grew stronger, more urgent.
“I know, darlin’, I know.” His voice was husky with desire as he claimed her lips yet again, his hands caressing her until she writhed beneath him, wanting, wanting.
A sharp knock at the door filtered through the haze of passion. She stared up at Alejandro, breathless. “Who can that be?”
He shook his head.
The knock came again, louder and more insistent. “Open the door, Miz Montgomery, we know you’re in there.”
Alejandro swore under his breath. “It’s the sheriff.”
“The sheriff! What does he want with me?”
“Beats the hell out of me. I guess you’d better let him in.”
“I guess so.” She was about to get out of bed when the door opened and the sheriff stepped inside, followed by four armed deputies. She could see the desk clerk standing in the hall, a smirk on his face, a key in his hand.
Shaye grabbed the sheet and drew it up to her chin. “What’s the meaning of this?” she exclaimed as the sheriff drew his gun and leveled it at Alejandro.
“Put your pants on, Valverde, you’re under arrest.”
Alejandro swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. “I didn’t know it was against the law to spend the night with a lady,” he drawled.
The sheriff grimaced. “Get dressed.”
Alejandro reached for his pants and pulled them on. “You mind telling me why you’re arresting me?”
“For the murder of Daisy Sullivan.”
“He didn’t do it!” Shaye said. “He couldn’t have.”
Alejandro glanced over his shoulder. “Shaye, keep out of this.”
“Something you want to tell me, Miz Montgomery?” the sheriff asked.
She shook her head. “He didn’t do it. I know he didn’t. He’s been with me all day. And all…all night.” The lie tasted sour in her mouth.
The sheriff jerked a thumb in the desk clerk’s direction. “Cliff, here, says different,” the sheriff replied. Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, he handcuffed Alejandro’s hands behind his back. “All I know is the woman is dead and Valverde’s gun killed her.”
“But…”
The sheriff lifted his hand, cutting her off. “Save it for the judge. He might believe you. Let’s go, Valverde.”
“Rio…”
“Take care of yourself, darlin’.”
She wanted to go to him, to throw her arms around him and hold him tight. Tears stung her eyes and clogged her throat as one of the deputies opened the door. Several people stood in the hallway, eyes widening as they watched the sheriff and his men take Alejandro away.
The last deputy out the door tipped his hat to Shaye. “Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am,” he said, and closed the door behind him.
Shaye sank down on the bed, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way! He wasn’t supposed to be arrested until ninth. What had changed? Yet, even as she asked herself that question, she knew the answer, knew that her presence in Bodie had altered the past, and perhaps the future.
She had a sudden image of the tears shining in Daisy’s eyes earlier in the day. Shaye had been certain that Dade McCrory had killed Daisy, but now…she bit down on her lower lip as a horrible thought occurred to her. What if seeing Shaye and Alejandro kissing on the street had been more than Daisy could bear?
Oh, Lord, what if Daisy Sullivan had taken her own life? Shaye groaned softly. What if it was her fault?
Chapter Nineteen
Alejandro paced the floor of his cell, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his jaw clenched. Any doubts he’d had about Shaye’s claim of being from the future had been swept away the minute he heard the cell door close behind him. Why the hell hadn’t he listened to her? He lifted one hand to his neck. He had seen men hanged before. It was not a pretty sight, especially if the drop didn’t break the victim’s neck and he was left to hang there while he slowly strangled to death, which happened more times than he cared to think about.
Going to the window, he stared out into the darkness. The town was still celebrating. The sound of music and laughter, gunshots and firecrackers, drifted to him on the breeze. The drunk in the next cell was snoring loudly. He heard the whinny of a horse from the barn next door.
Damn it all to hell! Why hadn’t he grabbed Shaye and left town the minute she told him about his fate? Even now, even knowing she was telling the truth, it still seemed incredible.
His hands curled around the bars as he thought about Daisy. It was his fault she was dead. He should have made her leave town, should have put her on a stage himself, gone with her, if necessary. Guilt burned through him. Dammit, he might as well have shot her himself.
Too restless to stand still, he began to pace the floor again. He had to get out of here, had to find out who had killed Daisy. Dade McCrory was the obvious answer. But why?
He frowned as he reached the far side of the room. Muttering an oath, he slammed his fist against the wall. The answer was obvious. Daisy had come to him for help, and he’d failed her, so she had threatened to go to the sheriff, and McCrory had killed her to shut her up. With Daisy out of the way, McCrory would be sole owner of the Queen. Using the gun Rio had left for Daisy had been a nice touch on McCrory’s part, he mused bitterly. And leaving it next to the body had been the ace in the hole.
Dammit, he had to get out of here!
* * * * *
Wrapped in a blanket pulled from off the bed, Shaye stood at the window, her fingertips drumming restlessly on the sill as she gazed down into the street, unable to believe what had happened. Alejandro wasn’t supposed to be arrested until August, yet something had caused a shift in the timeline of the past, and she knew that she was that something. She thought over the events of the past few days, wondering what she had done that had altered his destiny, wondering if whatever shift had occurred would also change the date of his hanging.
She blew out a sigh, distraught at the idea that she was somehow responsible. And then a new idea bloomed in her mind. What if she had been sent to the past because she was supposed to change it? What if Alejandro wasn’t supposed to die at all?
The thought gave her pause. What if she had been destined to come here to save him? What if she was the only one who could? Others had felt his presence, but she was the only one able to see him. Maybe they were destined to be together…
She shook her head. That was too farfetched to be believable. She was a reporter. She dealt in facts, not fiction. And yet, what if it was true? Why else would she be here? If she was here…Maybe it was all just an elaborate dream. Maybe she was crazy, locked up in an asylum somewhere, and all this was just a drug-induced hallucination.
Turning away from the window, she pulled on her dark-green calico dress, slipped on her Nikes, and left the hotel.
The celebration was over and for once, the streets were almost quiet, with only the last of the revelers still in evidence as they staggered toward home, and only the saloons showing any signs of life.
She moved through the dark streets, her heart pounding with a vague sense of déjà vu as she walked
down Main Street, past the carpenter shop and the barber shop and the assay office, remembering how they had looked when she first saw them. She turned left on King Street, passing the Kirkwood Stable, and then she was at the jail. The door to the Sheriff’s Office was closed. She tiptoed past, her heart beating faster as she approached the jailhouse window and peered inside.
And Alejandro was there, just as she had seen him before. Clad in black pants, a white shirt and a vest embroidered with tiny gold fleur de lis, he was stretched out on a narrow cot, one arm folded behind his head. A thin plume of smoke rose from the cigarette he held in his left hand. The room looked exactly as she remembered. His coat was folded over the back of one of the chairs. She heard the sound of snoring coming from the sheriff’s office adjacent to the jail.
Alejandro took a deep drag on the cigarette. Sitting up, he dropped the butt on the floor, ground it out with his boot heel. He sat there a moment, and then he stood up and began to pace the floor, his long legs carrying him quickly from one side of the room to the other. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him turn and walk toward the window.
“Shaye!” he exclaimed softly. “What are you doing here?”
She expelled her breath in a long sigh, feeling as though she were waking from a dream. “It’s exactly as I remember.”
He frowned at her. “What are you talking about?” he said, and then he knew. Knew why he’d always felt like he had seen her before. “You were wearing a black shirt…” He dragged his hand across his chest. “It had writing on it. Here.”
“Beauty and the Beast. It’s a stage play.”
Disbelief and astonishment chased themselves across his face, and then he swore a short pithy oath. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
Shaye nodded. “You did see me that night, didn’t you?”
Alejandro nodded. He had known from the first that he had seen her somewhere before, but to have seen her when he was dead… Damn, maybe his grandfather had been right. Maybe spirits did walk the earth. And he had been one of them, a ghost trapped in this jail.
“I knew you had seen me,” Shaye said. “I felt it. I felt you.” She leaned closer. “I felt what you were feeling.” She smiled faintly. “What you’re feeling now. But it isn’t hopeless.”
He reached through the bars to cup her face in his hand. “I thought I’d imagined you.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She reached up to cover his hand with her own, suddenly certain that she had, indeed, been sent back in time to meet this man. “Or dreaming about you.”
“Shaye…”
“Do you believe me now?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said with a wry grin. “I believe you.”
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she said fervently.
“And how do you plan to do that?”
She rubbed her cheek against his hand. “I’m not sure, but I will. You’ll see.”
She turned her head and kissed his palm. “Just be ready.”
“I’ll be ready,” he said, “the sooner, the better.”
“Good. Do you think I should…” She went still as the sound of voices drifted on the wind. Leaning forward, she kissed him quickly, then disappeared into the shadows.
Alejandro stared after her, wondering what manner of escape she had in mind. Not that it mattered. Whatever she came up with would be fine with him as long as it got him out of here.
Hanging. Damn. What a horrible way to die. He grinned into the darkness as he remembered telling Shaye that there weren’t many good ways that he knew of.
He stared into the darkness, his smile fading as his hands wrapped around the bars. What if it didn’t matter what she did? She said he had died on August twelfth. He had a horrible feeling in his gut that no matter what happened between now and then, he’d be standing on the gallows on that day, a rope around his neck.
“Shaye.” He whispered her name. For the first time in his life, he had something to live for, someone he cared for. It wasn’t fair that he should lose her when he had just found her.
Chapter Twenty
When she reached her room, Shaye locked the door, put on her nightgown, washed her hands and face, and crawled into bed. But sleep wouldn’t come. There were too many thoughts and fears running through her mind. How would she get Alejandro out of jail? Where would they go? What if he was killed during the escape? What if she was?
She turned over on her stomach, punched her fist into the pillow, and closed her eyes. And thought about Daisy. It was sad, that she should have died so young, so violently. Why had McCrory killed her? Had McCrory killed her? What if it hadn’t been McCrory at all, but someone else? But who?
She rolled onto her side, beset by a new fear. She had been so certain she had been sent here to solve the mystery of Daisy’s death and save Alejandro from hanging. What if she failed? What if she solved the riddle of who killed Daisy, and Alejandro was hanged anyway, and she was left here without him? She liked the excitement of the town, she liked the people, especially Digger and Spooner and Henry. And Sophie. But as much as she liked Bodie and its inhabitants, she didn’t want to stay here without Alejandro…
She woke to the sound of gunshots, sighed, and rolled over. Another man for breakfast, she mused, shocked by how readily she accepted that fact of life in Bodie. Maybe it was because she lived in Los Angeles. The City of Angels usually had a man for breakfast, too, she mused ruefully, and, more often than not, more than one.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could get back to sleep. It had taken hours to fall asleep last night, and then she had tossed and turned restlessly, her dreams dark and ominous, filled with grisly images of Alejandro being led to the gallows, of a rope being dropped over his head, the thick knot just behind his ear, heard her own screams as he dropped through the trap door. She had awakened then, drenched with sweat.
But it had only been a dream. Hadn’t it?
Somewhere in the distance, she heard a clock chime the hour. Ten, eleven, twelve. Good heavens, it was noon. She never slept that late.
Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed, dressed hurriedly, and left the hotel.
As usual, the streets were crowded with miners and gamblers. Chinamen peddled firewood and vegetables, a couple of shady ladies stood in the doorway of the Strike it Rich saloon, drumming up business. Men were unloading a huge wagon filled with merchandise in front of the general store, but she paid little heed to her surroundings as she pushed through the throng on her way to the jail. She had to see him, had to know he was still there.
She was breathless when she reached the jail. Relief swept through her in a long, heartfelt sigh when she saw he was there, sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. A plate with the remains of a ham and egg breakfast was pushed to the side. She recognized the dish as one from the hotel dining room and wondered if Addy Mae had brought it by personally.
“Alejandro.” His name whispered past her lips.
He glanced over his shoulder, smiled when he saw her. Putting the cup on the small, scarred table, he stood up and walked toward her. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I had a nightmare.” She reached through the bars, needing to touch him.
He took her hand, his fingers curling around her palm. “Yeah,” he said with a wry grin. “So did I.”
“Have you heard anything? When’s the trial going to be? Do they have any evidence besides your gun?”
“The only thing I’ve heard is that Daisy’s funeral is this afternoon at three over at the Odd Fellows Hall.” He swore under his breath. “I should have made her leave town. Dammit, this is all my fault. I should have put her on a stage myself.” He swore again. “I should have believed you sooner.”
“That doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters now except getting you out of here.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to do that.”
“Me, either. But I will. You’ll see.”
&
nbsp; “Hey, what are you doing here?”
Shaye whirled around, startled to find the sheriff standing at her elbow. Oh, Lord, she thought, how much had he heard? “I’m not doing anything,” she said, and immediately wished she could take the words back. They made her sound just like a kid caught with its hand in the cookie jar. She composed herself and smiled. “I just came by to see Rio.”
“Yeah, you and every other woman in town,” the sheriff replied gruffly. “Been a regular parade all morning.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go on, get the hell out of here.”
Shaye looked over her shoulder at Alejandro. “A regular parade, eh?”
He shrugged, then grinned at her as if to say, what can I do?
Shaye scowled at him. No doubt Addy Mae and Lily and all the doves at the Queen and the Bodie Belle had been by. And Sophie and Lottie, too, and who knew how many other women had stopped by while she was at the hotel worrying herself sick. She chided herself for being jealous at such a time, but she couldn’t help it. Right or wrong, she wanted to be the only woman in his life, in his heart.
“Come here,” he said, and leaning forward, he kissed her through the bars.
At the touch of his lips, she forgot the sheriff was watching, forgot everything but the never-ending wonder of his touch and the fact that she loved him beyond words.
“Okay, you two,” the sheriff muttered, “that’s enough. You’re breaking my heart.”
She squeezed Alejandro’s hand. “I’ll see you soon.”
Alejandro smiled down at her and winked. “I’ll be here.”
* * * * *
Back at the hotel, she went into the dining room. She glanced at the menu, suddenly homesick for a pepperoni pizza and an ice cold Seven-Up.
A few minutes later, Addy Mae came by to take her order. “I guess you heard about Rio,” she said.
“Yes,” Shaye replied, and then couldn’t help adding, “I was with him when they arrested him.”
Journey to Yesterday Page 18
