by H. D. Gordon
Silence held between us, the only sounds those of the drunken revelry taking place at intervals around us.
After a while, his voice subdued even in my head, Devon asked, “How long have you known?”
In a rare show of affection, I slipped my arm around his wide shoulders and let him lean against me a bit. “Forever,” I answered truthfully.
“You never asked. Never brought it up.”
I shrugged. “It never mattered to me.”
Devon’s face went grave over the gratitude it had been exhibiting. “But now it does,” he said.
It was not a question, but I answered, anyway. “Not to me. Never to me. But, to the world… The world is a fucked up place.”
In a voice that was so anguished I barely recognized it as my brother’s, Devon whispered, “I can’t help who I love, Dita.”
I gave his shoulder a squeeze, resisting the urge to rub at the slight aching in my chest. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, brother. Not ever.”
Silence fell again, and I knew my sibling well enough to know it was because he was fighting back tears. While I loved him for everything that he was, I recognized and feared the weakness that was his soft heart. I was terrified that in the tough reality we lived in, it was going to get him killed.
Or perhaps both of us killed.
“Will there be backlash?” Devon asked after a few moments.
I released my hold on him and rubbed my neck again. Rolling my shoulders, I sighed. “I hope not. As far as I know, Ezra didn’t have a lot of friends… But it doesn’t matter, anyway. It had to be done.”
Devon nodded slowly, the apple in his throat rising and falling. “Because he knew about me.”
I could tell where he was going with that, and that he was trying to shoulder the guilt, as if the whole thing was his fault.
I gave his shoulder one more squeeze, deciding it was finally time to call it a night. But, first, I said, “No, brother. Not just because of you. The son of a bitch threatened the girls as well. He signed his own death warrant when he did that. He was an abuser, a piece of shit. Don’t you lose any sleep over it.”
I didn’t add because I would lose enough sleep over it for both of us.
Devon kissed my cheek, which I took as my cue to escape. I was through the door and heading into the backroom when my brother’s voice echoed faintly in my head.
“Then I don’t want you to lose any sleep over it, either,” he told me.
Without responding, I slipped into the backroom, where the twins and Delia were already sleeping, and shut the door behind me.
At last, I took up my spot in the corner of the room, removing the duel revolvers from my hips and resting them across my lap as I slid down with my back resting against the wall.
“Don’t worry about me, big brother,” I replied as I stifled a yawn. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Chapter 10
Three quarters of a moon cycle passed in the fluid manner only time can claim.
The final breathings of fall at last gave way to the crisper, cooler grip of winter. The growing season was fully upon the Southern Territory, and the working Wolves were out in the fields, day and night, putting in the seeds for the Winter Harvest.
One could see them standing out in the fields, backs breaking as they tilled the soil and tended the earth, preparing it for the sustenance it would later bear.
Unlucky bastards, I always thought whenever I saw them. The fieldwork, with its endless hours and dismal wages, was the kind of labor that was second in awfulness only to that of the working ladies—both professions that ravaged the body and also the soul.
In no estimation was I to be considered an upstanding citizen, but I would rather shoot, lie, and steal than let the wealthy own me this way. These were the only two options available with the kinds of hands life had dealt us, and I didn’t think I was any better or any worse for choosing the latter option.
It just was what it was; some worked until they could hardly stand upright, and others sold their bodies in order to eat.
People like me simply broke the law.
The incident with Ezra Ikers, that had been different. It was one thing to sell Wolfsbane or peddle Moonshine. It was an entirely other thing to go shooting people dead.
I’d hunted and killed various animals and large game throughout my life, as I was a Wolf with a family to feed, and I’d built a small reputation beating down a few of the bigger bullies in The Mound, but that didn’t make what I’d done any easier, it didn’t save my soul from being branded by darkness.
The people who knew me the best honest to Gods believed I was indifferent. Cold-hearted Dita, they said, and while pulling the trigger had seemed like the obvious choice at the time, it would be a lie to say that sleep had come easily these past few weeks.
So I was indulging a little more in the poisons than I was accustomed to, but otherwise, things were going relatively well. Half a moon cycle ago, the new members of my team and I, with the help of Jake and his wannabe rebel friends, had delivered the requested batch of moonshine to Lukas Borden, and the whole exchange had gone down without a hitch. I’d supplied him thirty barrels, and he’d handed me more money than I’d ever seen in my whole life. It had taken serious effort not to let my eyes bug out of my head, to play the whole thing cool.
And, now, things were running smoothly. Despite Kyra’s initial protests, the ladies and her were working well together. They had the next batch of shine made and ready to go in half the time I’d expected. They were even developing a banter and comfort level between one another that actually surprised me.
Ezra’s disappearance had been mostly swept under the rug. The girls had relayed the story I’d given them perfectly to the Hounds, keeping me out of the picture and simultaneously (if unwittingly) implicating themselves if the truth were ever to be revealed. This ensured that we all had a stake in keeping quiet on the actual events that led to Mr. Iker’s demise.
Thanks to the ladies and their honed and superb ability to deceive males, the papers reported Mr. Ikers’ disappearance and listed a male drifter with a common name as the prime suspect in his absence. The girls even sat with a sketch artist, giving made up features and creating a completely fabricated composite of the fictional male who had gotten into an argument with their boss earlier in the day on the date of his disappearance.
I’d passed by the WANTED flyers taped to lampposts on the streets of Borden and in a couple shop windows, and had to fight the chill that wanted to crawl up my spine. Last week’s rain had smeared and faded the flyers, along with the remnants of other postings that had come before, and with this cleansing, the rains had seemed to cleanse any public interest in the case as well.
Turned out I’d been right about Ezra. He’d been a bastard, and nobody seemed to care he was gone.
Or so I’d naively thought at the time.
This evening, the air had a rather wintery bite to it, and as I passed by a poster with a faded image of what I knew was a fictional character, I wished that the rains had been able to cleanse my hands as well… And then went in search of something to drown out these thoughts, as I’d been prone to doing these last few weeks.
I’d already sold out of my stock and taken a small loss betting at The Ring, but the night was still young, and I found myself wandering down the crowded street of The Row. On my left, speakeasies and cathouses and gambling dens produced a steady flow of people. Beside me, Cora and a couple of the other girls were strolling along, laughing and winking at the males who passed by while earning a few calls in return.
I was not inclined to such behavior, but they had worked hard these past few weeks, and a drink and some revelry was certainly in order.
It was with this mindset that I found myself sitting at the back of one of the speakeasies, which was little more than a brick-walled basement with low ceilings, dim lightings, and the racket of a local band and too many bodies.
I was on my third drink, and
because I was not a drinker, I was certainly feeling the effects of the poison. In the back of the room, at a low table, I observed the crowd and the ladies I’d come here with, making sure that no male was getting too handsy without their consent. Emilia, the Fae female in the group, who had long ginger hair and big blue eyes, had joked that I was like their older brother, forever scowling at any males who looked too long.
“Don’t you ever let loose, Dita?” Emilia had teased in her exotic Fae accent. “Perhaps you need a good roll in the hay?”
Currently, I spotted Emilia on the edge of the dance floor, grinding against a tall, almost-handsome male with a thick beard. She winked at me as she saw my attention, and I sighed and tipped up my glass, draining what was left inside.
As I was setting the glass back down, the feeling of being watched struck me. I casually uncrossed my legs, putting the soles of my boots flat on the floor, my body angling so that the irons at my hips were a bit more accessible. I scanned the room, searching for the source of the feeling.
Across the way, standing near the back exit and mostly cast into shadows, was a tall, handsome Wolf staring directly at me. He raised his eyebrows and jerked his chin toward the exit door.
Perhaps Emilia was right about a good roll in the hay, I thought, as I set down my glass and climbed to my feet.
The breeze rolling in off the Zouri hit me as I pushed open the door and ascended a small flight of stairs that led me to the street.
“You looked out of place in there,” said a deep voice to my right, and I turned my head to see the handsome male leaning casually against the building.
I approached him slowly, assessing his attributes before getting too close, as every female is wise to do. When no instinctual alarm bell went off in my stomach, I studied him even more closely, and found he was indeed as good looking under the pale light of the moon as he had been in the shadows of the speakeasy basement.
His hair was dark and shiny, the front coifed up in a way that was somehow both neat a messy, and the vibrant green of his eyes made for a contrast that was striking. He was tall, surely over six feet, and corded with lean muscle concealed by the modest but fine cut of his clothes. A slow smile crept over his lips as he noted my observation, and it could have been the drinks in me, but I almost wanted to smile back.
“Dita Silvers,” I said. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
The male moved a little closer, pushing off the building he’d been leaning on to approach me. “That’s because I’m not from here, Miss Silvers,” he replied.
I’d known that, of course. If it were otherwise, he’d have a place in my little black book.
I slid my hands into my pockets, glad that I’d decided to actually brush and curl my wild mane of hair this evening so that it fell in dark waves over my shoulders. “Do you have a name?” I asked. “Since I’ve already told you mine.”
The male held out his large hand. “Erek Blackwood,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Not yet, it ain’t, I thought, but did not say. The fact that I kind of wanted to was a testament to the effects of the shine running through me.
“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Erek asked. “It’s a fine night.”
I quirked a brow at him. Even without my black book, I would’ve known this male was not from around here. He was too much of a gentleman.
Giving him one more thorough once over and deciding that I indeed liked what I saw, I shrugged and tilted my head in what I was sure was a Wolf-like manner. “Can I be honest with you, Mr. Blackwood?” I asked.
His bright green eyes gleamed with curiosity as he ran them slowly up me in the same assessment to which I’d subjected him. “I surely wish you would,” he replied, his deep voice low, just above a whisper.
I mimicked his soft tone, holding his gaze as I tipped my chin up and gave a half smile. “I’d rather you just take me back to whatever room you’ve rented and let me have my way with you,” I told him.
To his credit, he managed to suppress the surprise at hearing a female speak in such a blatant manner. But I’d had three drinks and it had been a long moon cycle. Additionally, one-night stands were the only type of romantic relationships I had time for, and males who were just passing through town were the perfect candidates for this. If I’d learned anything from my little fling with Jake, it was that the males I chose to involve myself with were best kept at a distance.
After a small moment of charged silence, Erek extended his elbow to me. “Right this way, Miss Silvers,” he said.
Chapter 11
I lay atop the sheets, my body sweaty and loose, panting up at the ceiling.
Erek laid beside me in much the same condition, the carved muscles in his chest and abdomen shifting with his heavy breathing.
“Dear Gods,” he muttered, his voice still deep and guttural, his white teeth peeking out behind a small, satisfied smile. “
I sat up and suppressed a smirk of my own. Tossing the covers off me, I gathered my undergarments up from where they were scattered across the floor. I could feel Erek’s intense green eyes following me as I moved into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, locking it.
Once inside, I twisted the thick, dark mass that was my hair and pinned it atop my head. Then I pulled on my pants, shirt, and boots, and fastened the two revolvers around my hips in their respective holsters.
Finally, I retrieved my jacket (which I’d hidden the guns under in a neat pile in the bathroom when we’d arrived, under the pretense of freshening up) and buttoned it up so as to conceal the weapons. After washing my hands and splashing a little water on my face, I returned to the bedroom.
Erek was sitting up in bed, still naked, his tan, muscled body making me consider another go. Despite the fact that we’d gone three times already.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, sitting up straighter, muscles in his abs flexing.
I unspooled my hair and started fixing it in the mirror over the dresser. “It’s getting late,” I said.
In the mirror’s reflection, I watched as he climbed out of bed and slid on his undershorts. Then as he approached slowly from behind and attempted to slip his strong arms around my waist.
I slid out of his range with lithe movements before he could do so, seeing no reason to let him know about the irons currently hanging about my hips. They weren’t exactly standard equipment for any Wolf, let alone a female.
Erek noticed my evasion and held his hands up, backing off. A gentleman, indeed.
“So this was a one time thing, then,” he said. It was not a question.
I adjusted my jacket, feeling a little guilty and equally surprised about the disappointment on his handsome face. We were almost complete strangers who had just had sex. What had he thought was going to happen?
“I’m sure you’ll be heading out of town soon,” I said, lacing up my boots, which I had just slid on in the bathroom. “Heading back to wherever you came from.”
Erek grabbed his pants from the floor and pulled them on, still watching me with those striking green eyes. “Actually, I’ll be staying in Borden for a little while,” he said.
I paused in my movements, looking up at him. “Oh? You have business in town?”
“Yes, actually.”
I nodded. “And how long will that business keep you in town?”
Erek smiled, and I had to admit that he was even more attractive when he did so. It brought a light to his ruggedly handsome face that made me want to return the gesture. Of course, I resisted the urge.
“If I said at least another week, would you agree to see me again?” he asked.
I considered this, feeling my mouth tug up a bit in the corners as my eyes traveled over the planes of his still-bare chest, and down to the V-shape just below his abdomen.
“I might allow you to convince me,” I said slowly.
Erek sat down in the chair near a desk in the corner, still shirtless, and leaned back to survey me. “And here I though
t you were itching to run away from me. The mysterious Dita Silvers, never to be seen again.”
It would be a lie to say that the urge to crawl atop his lap and have a repeat of earlier in the night didn’t strike me, but I reached into my pocket and removed the small clock there, checking the time. I suppressed a sigh.
In less than an hour, the twins and Delia would be waking up, hungry and needing to be fed.
I sighed, tucking the clock back into my pocket. The time I got to do things for myself was always limited, the people depending on me to take care of them a constant.
“I know where to find you,” I said, turning toward the door.
Erek called out to me. “Hold up a second. Maybe you can help me,” he said, and stood from his spot in the chair. He removed a piece of parchment from the desk and walked it over to me.
Years of practice were the absolute only thing that allowed me to keep my expression neutral as he handed me the paper, and I looked down at what was printed there.
There was a slight buzz in my ears when Erek said, “I’m in town investigating the disappearance of Ezra Ikers. Did you know him?”
I studied the picture—a rendering of Ezra that was uncanny in its likeness.
The Wolf I’d killed in cold blood three weeks ago looked up at me from the page, his name, age, and date of disappearance glaring out in bold letters. The artist had even added the detail of the gold chain with the E pendant I’d seen Ezra wearing around his neck. At the top of the picture, the caption read: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MALE?
But Erek had asked me a question, and I needed to time and voice my answer efficiently. I somehow managed not to swallow hard around the lump that had formed in my throat, and was relieved when my voice came out smooth.
Innocent.
“Sure,” I said. “He ran one of the cathouses. Been missing a few weeks now.”
Erek nodded, and I reminded myself to breathe easily when I saw no suspicion behind those bright green eyes. Not toward me, anyway.
