by Renee Ryan
Laney stifled a groan that rose up in her throat.
This man seemed determined to think the worst of her. With very little evidence, he actually believed Judge Greene had rented a room in this hotel with the express purpose of spending the evening with her.
Laney would be insulted if Dupree wasn’t so completely incorrect.
Then again...
Perhaps his mistake was a blessing. Perhaps Laney could use this man’s ugly assumption of her character to her advantage.
Why not buy herself some much needed time while he went on his search. A search that would prove highly unsuccessful.
“Joshua is in room...” she paused, blinked, and then pretended to accept defeat at last “...912.”
For an endless moment, Dupree studied her face. Laney held her breath. The look of disappointment in his eyes—disappointment in her—nearly made her rethink her plan.
Should she tell him the truth? Maybe he would understand her situation. Maybe he would care.
And maybe Marc Dupree was no different than the shady banker demanding his money before their agreed upon deadline. Simply because he thought the children in her orphanage didn’t deserve a safe home in which to live. Not because they were bad children, but because of how their mothers chose to earn their living.
A living that Marc Dupree had accused Laney of conducting here tonight.
No. She couldn’t trust him.
The risk was too great.
With renewed determination, she lifted her chin a notch higher.
Dupree’s lips twisted into a frown. “Stay here.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and slammed out of his office.
At the sound of the lock striking into place, Laney blew out a hard burst of air.
Stay here. As if he’d given her any other choice.
At least he wouldn’t find Judge Greene on the ninth floor. Or any floor, for that matter. Denver’s most respected federal judge had already exited the building by way of the back alley. By now, he was probably enjoying the rest of the evening with his very proper, very naive wife.
Dupree would be furious when he returned to his office empty-handed. Laney didn’t plan to stick around to find out just how angry. Of course, if there was no money waiting for him in the safe there could be no reason to approach the judge, now or in the future.
No evidence. No shady dealings.
Laney knew what she had to do. And she had precious little time in which to do it.
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked frantically around the room. A new plan began formulating in her brain. One that would require a different ensemble than the ridiculously fancy dress she wore now.
She hurried across the room and flung open the doors to the armoire. Smiling wryly, she reached for a pair of worn trousers. Then thought better of her choice and dug deeper.
One by one, she tossed out clothing items until she found the most expensive pair of trousers and the finest linen shirt among the lot.
Kicking off her shoes, she made the change as quickly as possible. Her fingers shook over the buttons but she remained focused. Shoving up the too-long sleeves, she folded her discarded dress into a neat ball then rushed over to the safe.
Thankful she’d paid attention to Hank’s fingers working the lock, she spun the dial around, clearing it, then proceeded to get down to business.
Three turns to the right, two more to the left, a final one to the right and...
Click.
Blessed success. It took both hands to open the surprisingly heavy door. She eyed the contents, took only what belonged to her, then pushed the safe closed.
Feeling contrary, she scribbled a quick note to the owner of the hotel—it was the only proper thing to do after all the hospitality he’d given her—then, with a bold sweep of her arm, cleared the desktop of all papers.
She jumped onto the desk.
Looking to the window, she let out a chuckle. She’d scaled too many walls, jumped on and off too many trains, to let a measly little slab of glass three feet above her head daunt her now. A quick flex of fingers, a check to make sure she’d secured her reticule tightly around her wrist and she was ready.
Mind focused on one task at a time, she grabbed the window’s frame with one hand and felt around for the opening with the other. Finding the lever at last, she unlocked the latch and pushed the glass forward until she’d created a substantial slit. Careful to avoid catching the silky material on any random piece of wood or metal, she threw the borrowed dress out the opening.
Her foot found a toehold in the wall’s masonry. Pulling with her arms and pushing with her feet she raised herself up. Once she was halfway through the window, she grasped the outside casing and tugged again. One final push and she was free.
Free.
Tumbling toward the ground, she used the momentum of the fall to gather her balance.
As always, Laney landed on her feet.
Smiling, she picked up the dress, checked the condition of her reticule and took off at a full run. She made it exactly five steps before colliding into a solid mass of silk-encased muscle.
“Oh!”
The dress plummeted from her clutches. Head reeling, mind focused on escape, Laney instinctively bent to snatch the garment as quickly as possible. Her progress was halted midreach.
Powerful arms trapped her from behind, while an annoyingly familiar voice rang in her ears. “It would appear, Miss O’Connor, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Chapter Three
Laney tried to twist free, but Dupree’s hold tightened around her waist. “Be still,” he ordered.
His haughty tone slid over her, making her bolder than usual. “Or you’ll what? Hurt me?”
His arms jerked, just a bit, enough to tell her she’d hit her mark. “I’m not in the habit of harming women.”
“Then release me.”
He had the audacity to chuckle. “Not a chance, honey.”
Honey? Laney ground her teeth in frustration. But she wisely remained unmoving. As covertly as possible, she lifted her gaze and studied the window she’d just slipped through. How could Dupree have known she’d escape by way of that tiny opening?
He chuckled again. “I’m an observant man, Miss O’Connor. I watched you eye my window with the same longing that a land-bound sailor tosses at the sea.”
“How dare you?”
“I dare because I can.” He shifted his hold, drawing his arms tighter around her, as if he suspected she would make a break if he gave her an ounce of opportunity.
He was right, of course. The cad.
The knowledge that he could read her so easily sent a shiver of alarm skidding down her spine. Her bravado of only seconds before disappeared. Clearly, she’d underestimated the man.
A mistake she wouldn’t repeat.
She had to get away. But how? At the moment, he had the advantage. Unacceptable. She couldn’t allow him to keep her imprisoned in the alleyway where the dim light from the adjacent street made this encounter all too intimate. Terrifyingly so. “Let me go.”
“Not until you hand over Judge Greene’s money.”
“Money?” She struggled with every ounce of her strength, and managed to lengthen the space between them by an entire four inches. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“So we’re back to that. You might want to reconsider your denial in light of your present situation.” He spun her around to face him, clamped his hands on her shoulders and dropped an assessing glance over her. “As you must agree, you are in no position to argue.”
Far too aware of his hands on her shoulders, she swallowed back a sarcastic retort. She should be furious with indignation. Yet, as he held her trapped inside his gaze a strange, almost pleasant situation rippled through her.
What was wrong with her? This man was the enemy. The enemy! “You seem to be under the impression that you are in control right now.”
His fingers flexed, the
n gripped her again. Not any harder, just more securely. “Wonder where I’d come by such an idea?”
His smug attitude quickened the fight in her. Calling upon the lessons she’d learned from the friendly Chinese man at the mining camp outside Cheyenne, Laney dropped low, then bobbed to her right. She managed to surprise Dupree long enough to free herself for a full half second.
But he reached out, grasped her again then lifted her back to an upright position.
“Release me, you oaf.”
Placing her directly in front of him, he flattened his lips into a grim line. For a brief moment, their feet shuffled in a bizarre dance of wills while she tried to get free and he made sure she didn’t.
Fully in control of the situation, Dupree concluded their perplexing waltz once he had her in a spot where her only route of escape was through him.
Apparently satisfied with this new arrangement, he released her shoulders at last. “Now.” His low, gravelly drawl drifted through the air between them. “Where were we?”
A shudder of unease racked through her. “Your manly display of physical intimidation is rather pedestrian, don’t you think? Especially in light of the fact that I have done nothing wrong here tonight.”
“You claim innocence, yet you tried to make a quick escape before my return. And now that we’re on the subject.” His eyes narrowed over her. “I don’t remember giving you permission to borrow my clothes.”
She jerked her chin at him. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
Keeping her eyes locked with his, she faked to the right, then shifted quickly to her left. He shot out a restraining arm, and once again, moved her back to center.
“I’m warning you, Dupree—”
“Dispensing of the ‘mister,’ are we?”
Laney sniffed. “Mister implies a gentleman.” She trailed her gaze across his far too handsome face, down to his fancy vest then back again. “Regardless of the manner in which you dress, we both know you are no gentleman.”
“And since you are no lady, am I to assume we can dispense of any further pretense of good manners?”
Without waiting for her to respond, he reached out and captured a loose tendril of her hair, twined it around his finger.
For a long, stifling moment the strange sensation she’d experienced only moments before slipped through her again, freezing her into immobility. Why wasn’t she slapping his hand away? Had she no pride left?
Yes, of course she did.
Calling upon every bit of her outrage, she said, “Release me this instant.”
“In due time. But first.” He let go of her hair. “I want that money.”
“Well, you can’t have it.”
Even in the dim light she could see the exact moment his patience ran out. He grabbed for her reticule.
“Oh, no.” She whipped her arm behind her back. “This money is rightfully mine, given to me for a very good reason.”
“So you say.” He stopped his approach and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you are innocent, as you keep claiming, then you should have no problem sharing with me why Judge Greene gave you the money.”
“I...can’t tell you.”
“Of course you can’t.”
For reasons unknown to her, Laney again wished she could tell this man the truth. Marc Dupree would be a powerful ally against the likes of Thurston P. Prescott III.
“All right, Miss O’Connor. Since you refuse to do so yourself, let me explain the situation for you.”
She swallowed back a sarcastic retort and thought through her options. Except for crashing through him, she was stuck. For now.
“From your speech alone, I can only assume you’re an educated woman. And since we both know an educated woman can earn money in a variety of ways, your presence here tonight can mean only one of two things.”
Oh, how she hated that self-righteous tone in his voice, the one that sounded far too much like a banker she knew. “You have it all figured out, don’t you, Dupree?”
“Sadly, I do.” He dropped his hands to his sides and let out a regretful sigh. “The way I see it, you are either blackmailing Judge Greene or—”
“Blackmail?” Laney’s breath clogged in her throat. The nerve of the man. The gall. Next, he’d be calling her out for prostitution.
“Or...” he leaned over her “...the judge was soliciting your services for the evening.”
And there it was. The nasty accusation she’d feared. She barely resisted the urge to slap him, knowing the gesture would serve no purpose. Which only added to her frustration. “You scoundrel.”
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Either way, neither activity is allowed in my hotel. So, again, I suggest you hand over the money with no more fuss so I may return it to Judge Greene.”
“You seem to take great pleasure in thinking the worst in people.”
“Not all people.”
Out of patience herself, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved. Hard.
He didn’t budge an inch. Provoking beyond measure, yet invaluable information for the future.
“I know firsthand what women like you are about, Miss O’Connor.”
“Making assumptions again?”
“Absolutely. But I will admit, as reprehensible as I find your choice of lifestyle, I’m certain there are others who find you alluring and appreciate your, shall we call them...talents.”
Laney sidled to her left.
Dupree scooted her back to the right.
“Talents?” she asked in an overly polite tone. “What sort of talents are we talking about?” As if she didn’t know what he meant.
“For one, you dress like a well-bred lady with an accomplished eye for style.” He dropped his gaze a moment. “Your present attire not included.”
This time, she strayed to the right.
He hauled her back to center. “You speak with perfect diction, somewhat uncommon in these parts. And, most recently, you climbed out of my window with the finesse of a—”
“Skilled acrobat?”
“Precisely.”
Not sure what she heard in his voice—grudging respect, censure?—she granted him her most unpleasant smile, the one she reserved for bankers and highborn gentleman in red silk vests.
Finally, an idea came to her. She could still get away with the money—her money—but before she resorted to such an underhanded tactic, she had to try to escape in a fair manner one last time.
Didn’t she always tell the children to think before they acted? Didn’t she warn them of the dangers of sinful behavior? How could Laney ignore everything she tried to teach the children and still face them in the morning?
Determined to hold onto the remaining scraps of her integrity, she scrambled to her right. Again, Dupree pushed her back to her original position.
So be it.
I tried, Lord. Truly, I tried. I pray, please, forgive me for what I’m about to do.
“You know, Dupree, I have other, equally impressive...talents.”
“Oh? Do you cook, sew, ride a horse with great skill?”
Sniffing at his attempt to goad her, she took a step toward him and grasped the sides of his vest. “You are becoming redundant.”
“As are you, honey.”
Honey. She was really starting to dislike that word. Nevertheless, she touched her fingertip to the top button of his vest.
Eyes lowering to half-mast, he captured her hand in a light but firm grip. “I wouldn’t advise continuing down this path, Miss O’Connor.”
Allowing him to misunderstand her intent, she moved a step closer. “You sure you don’t want to see what I can do?”
His look turned sardonic. “I’m afraid I must decline further demonstration of this particular skill.”
“Once again,” she tugged her hand free, “you have chosen to misread the situation.”
He swallowed. Once. Twice. Then again more slowly. Very slowly. “By all means, honey, prove m
e wrong.”
“Gladly.” She shifted her weight, planting her left foot slightly behind her right. To keep his attention off her new position, she toyed with his lapel again. “You see,” she said in a light, airy tone. “When cornered, I fight like I do everything else.”
“You lie and cheat?”
“No.” She gave him her most brilliant smile and took a step back. “I win.”
She raised her right knee and, leading with her heel, slammed her foot into his chest. The blow landed exactly as her friend had taught her.
Caught off guard, Dupree stumbled backward. His gasp of surprise wasn’t as gratifying as Laney would have predicted.
This was her one chance. With a quick snatch, she retrieved her bundled dress and tore around the corner at breakneck speed. She quickened her pace to a flat-out run as the bellowed promise to hunt her down like a rabid dog nipped at her heels.
* * *
Minutes later, Marc charged wordlessly to the back of his hotel. Holding on to his anger—barely—he released the lock and with a violent shove, plowed into his office. The earsplitting crack of door meeting wall punctuated his foul mood. Unfortunately, the jarring noise did nothing to eliminate the reality of the last ten minutes. Not since Pearl ran off with his fortune could Marc recall a time he’d suffered so complete a defeat.
Oh, he’d known Miss O’Connor would attempt to steal away with what she claimed was her rightful possession. He’d even expected her to resort to whatever means necessary to escape. Her kind always thought in terms of survival. What he hadn’t imagined was to find room 912 empty and Joshua Greene long gone by the time Marc had arrived.
Had the judge known he was coming to confront him?
Not possible. There had been no time or opportunity for Miss O’Connor to warn him.
Rubbing the spot where she’d landed her heel to his chest, Marc let out a frustrated hiss. How could such a tiny, delicate woman land a blow with so much force? She hadn’t hurt him, not by half. He’d suffered far worse from rowdy drunks and mean-spirited outlaws. Nevertheless, she’d taken him by surprise, enough to throw him off-balance and make her getaway.
