by Jake Logan
“Sort of, but I’m not asking much in return.”
Then Slocum felt something else in the dark. A small, warm hand slipped between his legs to cup him and massage gently. Her face brightened as she gazed up at him and said, “I see some of Eve’s stories were true. All I want is to find out about the rest.”
“And that’ll keep you quiet to Bo or anyone else about this?”
She nodded, stroking him slowly until his erection strained against the front of his jeans.
Slocum gathered her skirts until he could reach beneath them and start tugging at her undergarments. There was a lot of material to get through, but Maddie was more than happy to help him in his task. By the time his hand finally touched the warm skin between her thighs, she was breathing in quick anticipation. She tried to form words even as her hands fumbled with Slocum’s belt and the front of his pants.
“You’re . . . This is . . . Oh my . . .” She sighed.
Reaching around to cup her buttocks beneath her skirts, Slocum moved her so Maddie was against a wall. When he lifted her up, she hopped so one leg was propped against an old chair and the other was wrapped around his waist. Her arms encircled the back of his neck and tightened as he plunged every inch of his cock into her. Maddie gasped and held on tight as Slocum thrust between her legs.
There were still a few footsteps overhead and more coming from the hallway just outside the closet door, but Slocum didn’t pay them any mind. The upstairs footsteps only meant Bo and the others were still preoccupied, and the ones outside, going back and forth in a stampede, were one group of dancing girls switching out for another. Maddie’s face pressed against Slocum’s neck as she let out a muffled little groan that barely made enough noise to be heard over everything else.
When Slocum tightened his grip on her, Maddie tightened hers upon him. She may have started off surprised by his sudden move to take her, but Maddie was settling into the situation just fine. Her hips ground in time with his, and she even got him to speed up by pressing her foot against his back in a quickening pace. Soon, her fingers curled against his back and shoulder, to dig her nails into his flesh.
The men upstairs filed out of the room. Just when Slocum thought they were all gone, a few sets of feet shuffled near what was either the doorway or the front of that space. A low, gruff voice spoke to a hesitant one. Apparently, James wanted a word with Cam before stepping out. Slocum couldn’t hear any specifics, but James’s growling voice reeked of suspicion. After a few seconds, both sets of boots clomped away and the door above Slocum’s head slammed shut.
“Good Lord,” Maddie sighed into his ear.
As much as he wanted to get a look out at the staircase to see if the other three men were coming back down to the main floor, Slocum didn’t leave Maddie prematurely. In fact, she’d gotten into a nice little rhythm of her own and was making him glad he’d decided to spend some extra time in the dark with her. The curves of her backside filled his hands and her muscles strained with an impending orgasm. He held her up just a bit higher against the wall so the rigid shaft of his cock hit her in just the right spot. This wasn’t Slocum’s first time against a wall, and he knew a trick or two about how to make the experience a memorable one. That trick didn’t go unappreciated.
Maddie’s arms locked around him firmly enough to make Slocum gulp for air. She pressed herself against him as hard as she could as he pumped into her one more time. When he was all the way in, Slocum stayed there until every inch of her was trembling. As soon as the climax passed, he started to slowly ease out. The warm dampness between her legs glided along his length, teasing him to the end of his own trail. A few more powerful thrusts put him over the edge and nearly got Maddie to spoil their hiding spot with a deep-throated scream. She pressed her mouth against Slocum’s shoulder as the next song started on stage.
A minute or two later, Maddie emerged from the closet. She tugged at her skirts and fretted with her hair while glancing up and down the narrow hallway. After a straggling dancing girl rushed past her, she opened the closet door and gave Slocum a few quick waves. “Come on out,” she whispered.
Slocum was still buckling his belt as he stepped into what felt like a blazing light. His eyes quickly adjusted to the glare of the lanterns hanging from the walls, which, compared to the inside of the cramped closet, seemed close to high noon. “Not a word of this to anyone, you hear?”
“I won’t tell about the listening, but the rest . . .”
Not too concerned about the rest, Slocum patted her on the backside as he walked down the hall and crossed completely behind the stage. As he’d figured, the hallway wrapped around the back of the theater to a small door on the side of the room with the gambling tables. Not only could he see Bo winding his way back to his roulette table, but Slocum also caught sight of James and Cam stomping from the bottom of the staircase toward the bar. Neither of those two was very happy.
“All right then,” Slocum said to himself. “Let’s see just how deep your loyalties lie.”
6
Slocum spent the time leading up to his prearranged meeting carefully. After making a private request of Terrance, he visited a few men in Chicago who might possibly know about someone like Michael Harper. None of them did.
His appointment with Bo was drawing close when Slocum returned to the theater. He strode in through the front doors and found Cam spinning the roulette wheel. James and Bo were nowhere to be found, but he didn’t let that concern him. Slocum stepped up to the bar, slapped the polished surface, and was soon greeted by two familiar faces.
The bartender nodded once, but didn’t get to do much else before the second man cut him short.
“What are you doing here?” Terrance asked.
“I was about to enjoy some free whiskey.”
“That trash is still standing behind my gambling table,” the older man said while swinging an arm toward the opposite side of the room.
“Not for much longer.”
“So you really intend on meeting Bo later tonight?”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve got my sources.”
Slocum looked toward the stage but didn’t see Maddie among the girls dancing there. Even so, he doubted she’d found out that much. Since there were plenty of other sources for stray gossip and loose talk, Slocum placed his hands on the bar and waited for his drink. “It won’t work out too well if you flap your gums about it, but yeah, I mean to have a word with them in a bit.”
Nodding at the bartender, Terrance said, “Give him his whiskey. I’ll have one too. So what’s this talk gonna be about, John?”
“I plan on taking over this theater with those three idiots. What the hell do you think it’ll be about?”
“What I meant is, will this all be over by tomorrow?”
“The sooner the better,” Slocum said.
“If so, I’ve got your money. There’ll even be some extra if you could make certain that . . . shall I say . . . any or all of those men aren’t able to bother me in the future.”
The whiskey was set in front of him, and Slocum lifted it so he could look through the dark liquid at the candle burning on the shelf behind the bartender’s head. “You should stick to the theater business and leave assassinations to the professionals.”
“It’s a simple contract.”
“You run a fancy saloon,” Slocum told him. “You trying to arrange a murder is anything but simple. Do yourself a favor and spare yourself the pain of getting into a mess like that.”
Terrance could tell there was no arguing with him, so he simply nodded and took his drink.
“Did you tell James what I asked you to?” Slocum asked.
“Yes. He’s going to be keeping an eye out for Bo after the nine o’clock show.”
“Good. I suppose I should be on my way then.”
“Should I brace for the worst?”
Slocum looked about at the men Terrance had hired to protect his place. They may have been armed,
but if they’d known how to use those guns as anything but stage dressing, the Stamper wouldn’t have been in its current predicament. “Things may get worse before they get better. Have them watch the street for the rest of the night.”
“And after that?”
“You’ll know well enough once it gets that far.”
With that, Slocum set down his glass and left the theater. He didn’t have to look to know he was being watched by Terrance, Cam, and undoubtedly several other sets of eyes. The walk to the opium den felt twice as long as it actually was. Every step of the way, Slocum was ready to be ambushed, shot at, or any number of things that could very possibly ruin his night. None of those events came to pass, however, before the familiar scent of acrid smoke caught his nose. The crowd outside the opium den was smaller than before, which meant Bo didn’t have anywhere to hide.
“So,” Slocum said as he approached the skinny man, “did you have a chance to talk things over with your partners?”
“Yeah. They weren’t happy, but they agreed. Where’s the money?”
Digging into his pocket, Slocum stretched out a portion of his advance so Bo and several of the glassy-eyed customers could see it. The roulette spinner snatched the money away and tucked it under the flap of his vest.
“How quick before you’ll pack up your wheel?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Bo replied. “I’ll hold my end up.”
As the skinny man hurried away, Slocum said, “Be sure that you do. There’s plenty of work for men who can be trusted.” He wasn’t certain what effect those words had on the other man, but every little bit of uncertainty he could sow at this point was a good investment.
Slocum watched the other man go as if Bo was a toy he’d wound up and sent on its way. After Bo rounded a corner, Slocum set out after him. Bo didn’t try to mask his route and led Slocum right back to the Stamper Theater to find James standing on the boardwalk waiting for him.
“Where’ve you been?” James asked.
“I need to have a word with you,” Bo replied. “Meet me inside.”
“I got a few words for you, too.”
“Inside!”
“No,” James said as he planted his feet and placed his hand on the grip of his holstered pistol. “Right here. Right now.”
The streets were never clear, but there weren’t many folks out and about at this time of night. A few horses ambled along one side of the street and small groups of people walked past the Stamper Theater without taking much notice of the men in front of it.
“What’s gotten into you?” Bo demanded.
James was quick to shoot back with “What’s gotten into your pockets?”
This was right about the time that Slocum rounded the corner and got close enough to the theater to hear what was being said. Rather than interfere, he picked a spot across the street and settled in to watch the show.
“I heard you aim to hold out on me.” When the front door opened so the youngest member of the trio could step outside, James added, “Me and Cam, that is.”
“Who told you that?” Bo asked.
“Terrance.”
“Why the hell would you believe him?”
“He says he had Slocum pay to get us out of here and that your cut was triple what you told me and Cam it was. Empty your pockets and prove me wrong.”
“How do you know I’ve got anything?” Bo asked.
“That’s what I heard. The old man that runs this theater may not be reliable, but I don’t have any trouble believing you’d double-cross us where money’s concerned.”
“You don’t, huh?”
James stepped toward Bo to stand with his shoulders squared and his hand ready to skin the gun at his hip. Without taking his eyes away from Bo, he said, “Cam, have a look at what’s in his pockets.”
Slocum smiled at the simplicity of his plan as well as how simply it had been put into action. Then again, manipulating minds as simple as James’s and Bo’s wasn’t much of a test. The intent had been to place a wedge between the members of the gang by setting one of them against the others in any possible way. Once someone as rowdy as James found out about Bo’s trespass, the wedge would be driven in nice and deep. To be honest, Slocum had expected to need a few more go-rounds before the gang was ready to nip at its own heels. By the looks of it, though, he only needed to wait for all that money to be found for the show to start. He’d slipped even more money into the bundle than he’d told Bo about, so that should really get things going.
Cam walked over to Bo, said a few things that were too soft for Slocum to hear, and started digging in the skinny man’s pockets.
“John Slocum!”
The voice had come from down the street in the opposite direction from the opium den. Slocum looked over there to find a lean man striding toward him. It was Michael Harper.
Slocum’s eyes darted back and forth between Harper and Bo. Even though James was watching carefully from the front of the Stamper, his two partners were preoccupied with what they were doing. If Harper continued to draw attention, however, that wouldn’t last long.
Slocum shook his head, pulled his hat down a bit more over his eyes, and stepped back. Some people were walking by and would pass in front of him before too long. If he could keep quiet for just a bit longer, he might be able to mosey along with them so as not to interrupt Bo and James’s impending squabble.
“I found you once,” Harper said. “I found you this time, and I can find you again. Will I have to keep chasing you around like a scalded dog?”
Any desire to walk away or try to hide dried up from Slocum’s chest quicker than a splash of water on the desert floor. He stood up tall, walked up to Harper, and snarled, “You were lucky to get away once, boy. Why the hell would you want to tempt fate again?”
James shifted his attention to what was happening across the street. “Slocum? What’re you doing lurking in the shadows?”
Bo looked back and forth so quickly that he damn near snapped his own neck. “Were you setting me up?”
“Aww shit,” Slocum growled under his breath.
The only way for things to go to hell quicker after that would have been if the devil had clawed his way up from the pit to drag them there personally. James drew his pistol and fired a shot before he’d even given himself a chance to fix his eyes on a target. The shot didn’t draw any blood, but it did a real good job of stirring things up. Cam and Bo put their potential differences aside so they could skin their own weapons. When Harper reached for the pistol holstered under his arm, Slocum didn’t have any choice other than to jump into the battle feet-first.
Although he could have drawn his Colt Navy with more than enough speed to do some damage, Slocum took the opportunity to disarm one of his opponents in a more direct fashion. He rushed at Harper, grabbed the bounty hunter’s arm, and pulled it so the .22 he’d drawn was pointed toward the upper windows of the theater. From there, he twisted Harper’s wrist and followed up with a sharp kick to his knee. The gun slipped from his hand before he collapsed under his own weight.
Slocum caught Harper’s weapon before it hit the ground; then he drew his Colt and rushed along the boardwalk to avoid shooting a group of men who’d been staggering down the street. The instant he had a clear shot, he aimed the Colt Navy and fired. The pistol bucked against his palm, spitting a round through the air that came within an inch of creasing Bo’s scalp. It got close enough to send the skinny man straight down where he scrambled for cover. Cam dashed in another direction, but James walked straight ahead.
“You wanna do this now, Slocum?” James hollered as if enjoying the sound of his own voice. “I’ll put you straight out of your misery!” He fired without pause or any concern as to where his bullets landed. One of them came within a few feet of the post that Slocum leaned against for protection, but the rest only shattered glass in nearby windows or knocked holes into walls.
Slocum fired the gun in his left hand without expecting to hit anything. He pulled
that trigger just to make enough noise to scatter the locals before one or more of them caught a bullet. His efforts proved to be very effective, sending drunks and working girls alike racing away from the Stamper Theater. When Harper’s .22 ran dry, Slocum threw it away and shifted to the Colt in his right hand. Instead of firing that one as quickly as possible, he lined up his shot and squeezed his trigger carefully. James caught the bullet high enough in his left arm for it to create a messy wound as it ripped straight through and came out the other side. The pimp was spun around by the impact and fell to one knee.
Bo was yelling something across the street, but Slocum couldn’t hear him over the wailing of panicked folks in the street and the shouting of a few men who tried to pull the reins back on the chaos. Slocum assumed those men were authorities of some sort, but he didn’t intend on sticking around long enough to get involved with them any more than that. When it became clear nobody was listening to him, Bo set his sights on Slocum and started firing.
More than anything, Slocum had wanted to set his simple plan into motion and leave Chicago richer than when he’d arrived. Not only did it seem he was going to fail in the task given to him by Terrance, but Slocum was also worried about leaving Chicago without being carried away in a pine box. The remaining two gunmen didn’t concern Slocum as much as they’d inconvenienced him. Shooting them would have been easier, and he could have done it a while ago. But getting them to tear each other down would have made less of a mess and kept Terrance out of any entanglements with the law. Now, thanks to some loud, ill-timed words, he didn’t have a say in the matter.
And just when he thought he’d gotten a firm grip on the situation again, Slocum was thrown off his game. From behind some crates stacked in front of the building next to the Stamper, Cam fired a couple shots at Slocum that chipped at the post in front of him. He responded to that by leaning out of his cover and using the Colt Navy to punch a few holes through those crates. Cam fired his last shot at the same time James picked himself up from being sent to the ground. No sooner had the pimp lifted his gun hand than Terrance exploded through the front door of the theater.
