by Jake Logan
He wanted to get back inside of her, but Kate had a different idea. She dropped to her knees and used both hands to guide him into her mouth. Her lips were just as soft as they looked, and Slocum didn’t mind them being wrapped around him one bit. Placing his hands on either side of her head, he sifted through her hair as she sucked on him like a stick of candy.
It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. That time was cut in half when she started sliding her tongue along the bottom of his shaft. Slocum closed his eyes and savored the wetness of her tongue. She finished him off and was still licking him when Slocum thought he heard movement outside the room.
“Are there many other rooms rented out?” he asked.
He could feel her smile more than see it. Kate stretched her arms up to run her hands flat against his stomach as she took him into her mouth once more.
The footsteps got closer, but Slocum wasn’t of a mind to open the door. Since Kate was still unwilling to stop sucking him, he wasn’t quick to step away from the bathtub. Suddenly, she moved away from him and jumped to her feet.
“In here, damn it!” she shouted.
The footsteps rushed toward the door and everything snapped into focus for Slocum. All of that yelling and carrying on from before hadn’t been just her way of cutting loose. She’d been trying to draw the attention of whoever else was in the hotel. Slocum didn’t need to see through walls to know that whoever was out there wasn’t intending to shake hands and make nice.
When Slocum felt hands tugging at his arm, it was all he could do to keep from swinging at them. Kate clawed at him, fluttering her eyelids in a bad attempt to appear frightened.
“Don’t open that door,” she said. “Whoever is—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Slocum growled. “You think I’m stupid? Get the fuck out of my way.”
Naked and vulnerable, Kate moved aside so Slocum could get to the pile of clothes on the floor.
The first thing he found was his gun belt. Slocum took the Colt Navy from its holster and held onto it while he picked up his pants in one hand and did an awkward hopping dance to pull them on. He locked the door, but that wouldn’t hold them for long.
“Who is it?” he asked while hastily buckling his belt. “Answer me, Kate. The moment you shouted for them to come here, you lost all your good graces with me, so you’d best answer real quick.”
Kate slipped into her robe and lazily looped the belt around her waist to keep it mostly shut. “I don’t know who he is, but I didn’t have any choice in setting this up.”
“You didn’t, huh?”
“Too late to do anything about it now,” she said with a shrug. “Too late for both of us.”
Slocum knew plenty of ways to turn the tables on an overconfident bitch like her, but there simply wasn’t enough time to indulge in anything like that. He picked up his gun, grabbed the door handle, and pulled the door open while jumping to one side. As he’d hoped, the men were taking a run at the door and were thrown off by the sudden removal of their obstacle.
One charged into the room and was tripped up by the bathtub. His shins hit the metal with a clang that was distorted by the water sloshing inside the large basin. Despite his best efforts to salvage his footing, he lost it and fell across the top of the tub. As much as Slocum would have liked to watch him kick and flail before hitting the floor, he had two other men to contend with. The second came in behind the first, skidding to a halt before following the first man over the tub. He was a large fellow with a bushy beard that sprouted from his face like a tangle of weeds. By the time he’d stopped, Slocum was rushing at him.
Even though he made a solid impact, Slocum simply didn’t have enough momentum and bounced off of the larger man. He wasted no time before driving his left fist into the big man’s gut. The uppercut sank in deep, driving a good portion of the wind from that man’s lungs. Since there was a third man entering the room, Slocum hit the bearded fellow in the ribs with a chopping blow using the side of his Colt. Finely crafted iron did the job just as well as any club, weakening the bearded man enough for Slocum to shove him toward the bathtub, where he was quickly tripped up.
The third man wasn’t wasting any time with punches. He raised a shotgun to aim at Slocum and was just about to pull his trigger when Slocum dropped to one knee and fired from the hip. His Colt barked once, spitting a piece of lead that Slocum knew wouldn’t hit its mark. His aim was better than he’d anticipated, thanks mostly to the fact that he was only a few paces away from his target. A shredded piece of the shotgunner’s shirt flew off, accompanied by a spray of blood as if he’d been slashed by an invisible claw. His face twisted into a pained grimace and he staggered back into the hall to reload.
A surprised yelp echoed through the room as the bearded man lost his struggle to keep from falling over. After being pushed into the tub, he’d somehow caught himself with one hand against the side, which left him in a precarious balance. Thanks to all the splashing that had come before, the edge was slippery and he lost his grip. He slipped, hit the side of the tub on one arm, and flopped into the water.
“All right, big man,” Slocum growled as he circled around the tub so it was between him and the door. “Tell me why you’re here and be quick about it.”
Possibly drawing strength from the fact that his partners were still in the fight, the bearded man spat the water from his mouth and gripped the tub so he could haul himself up.
Grabbing onto the bearded man’s thick mane of hair with his free hand, Slocum held him in place while knocking the first man back to the floor with a well-placed boot. That one was still dazed after his less-than-graceful entrance and had been hanging onto the side of the tub. When Slocum’s boot pounded against his ribs, he cursed, dropped to the floor, and curled into a defensive ball.
Firing a shot into the hallway to keep the shotgunner in check, Slocum pushed the bearded man’s head beneath the water. “Tell me!” he bellowed.
Although the shotgunner had been momentarily distracted by the lead coming his way, the weapon in his hands gave him the courage to make a stand. The scattergun roared and sent a storm of lead into the hotel room. Fortunately, Slocum had caught sight of the man in the hallway a split second before the firestorm headed his way. He dropped to the floor as buckshot ripped through the bathtub and a few stray pieces of lead grazed his back.
Instead of sticking his head up to present the shotgunner with a good target, Slocum crawled around the tub and fired two quick shots at the doorway. The first one caught the shotgunner’s attention, and the second caught him square in the chest. When the man in the hallway dropped, his finger tensed around his trigger, and he sent his second barrel straight into the ceiling.
The barrel of the Colt Navy was still smoking when Slocum pressed it against the face of the first man to storm his room. “Start tellin’ me what I want to know!”
The man didn’t need any more prompting than that. Even if he didn’t know what was on Slocum’s mind, he would have gotten to it eventually as the words started flowing from his mouth. “Harper sent us in here to flush you out! He tracked you here and paid us to come and kill you!”
“Flush me out or kill me? Make up your damn mind.”
“Either one! It didn’t matter! We were just supposed to get you out of this room one way or the other! We’re through, though. Just let us go and we’re done!”
“You’re right you’re done,” Slocum replied.
“No! I mean—”
Slocum ended the other man’s babbling with a straight punch to the nose. Shifting his aim to the man in the tub, he asked, “What about you, big man?”
But that one wasn’t talking. His head lay on the side of the tub and one arm flopped over the edge along with one of his legs. His eyes were open, but there wasn’t any life in them. The first shotgun blast had seen to that. Slocum nudged him just to be certain, but all that did was send ripples through the crimson-stained water inside the tub.
“Look
s like you’re the last one standing,” Slocum said to the man with the broken nose, who’d started crawling away in a pathetic attempt to escape.
Sensing he’d been spotted, the man barely seemed to notice the guns lying on the floor, which had been dropped by himself and his partner in the tub. His hands were trembling too hard to pick anything up anyhow as he desperately tried to crawl around the other end of the tub. When he felt Slocum grab him by the collar, he frantically scraped at the floor and sputtered for mercy.
“You,” Slocum growled. “Come out from back there.”
“I’m right here,” the man on the floor gasped. “I’m done. I told you already, just let me go!”
“Not you,” Slocum said as he slammed the gunman’s head against the side of the tub. “Her.”
All that could be seen of Kate was the top few strands of her hair poking up from behind the bed. Having been called out directly, she poked her head up from the spot she’d found between the wall and the bed. Her face was white as the sheets and her eyes nervously darted toward the window looking down onto the street.
Waving toward the two dead gunmen and the unconscious one propped against the tub, Slocum asked, “Are these the men who arranged this?”
She shook her head. “It was a fella in fancy clothes with brown hair. He had a big nose and one of those hats that . . .” Too nervous to come up with the proper word, she began tracing the shape of a bowler hat on top of her head.
“And what did he say to you?”
“He paid me to make sure this hotel was cleared out except for you, me, and them. He also wanted me to try and get you alone without your gun. I thought I might be able to knock you out while you were in the bath. But,” she added with a wicked smile, “you distracted me.”
Not feeling the slightest effect from the look she was giving him, Slocum said, “That means he’s nearby. Take me to him.”
“I swear I don’t know where to find him.”
Slocum raised his Colt with a sharp motion that made Kate jump back against the wall. He opened the cylinder and went through the practiced motions of removing the spent rounds so he could reload. “I’ve been through enough bullshit for one night. You gave me one hell of a bath, but it wasn’t good enough to make up for the rest. Tell me where to find that fancy-britches with the round hat.” Snapping the cylinder shut and keeping the gun in hand, he added, “Or I may lose my patience.”
“He should have been here by now. He . . . he wanted to catch you personally. He told me so when he was paying me. It was real important.”
“I bet it was.”
Something thumped within another room. The sound caused her to jump as if it was a gunshot, and when the sound of a slamming door could be heard, Kate backed into her hiding spot as if she meant to push all the way through the wall.
“Is that him?” Slocum asked.
“We’re the only ones in the hotel,” she said quickly. “Just don’t let him near me. Please, I swore I’d do my part and he’ll be mad if he sees this. He’s crazy!”
No matter what Slocum may have thought of her, he didn’t like seeing any woman as frightened as she was at that moment. Fear was written on her face as clearly as if it had been scratched there by a rusty nail.
“How many more are there?” Slocum asked. Since his question hadn’t caught her ear, he leaned down closer to her and slapped the bed to shake her from whatever thoughts were rolling through her head. “Answer me, Kate. How many more are in here?”
“Just the one with the fancy clothes and maybe one more.”
“You sure about that?”
She shook her head violently and huddled against the wall.
Knowing he wasn’t going to get any more out of her, Slocum snatched his shirt from the floor and pulled it on to fight the chill from the wind that shook the glass panes in the window frames. He collected the other guns strewn on the floor, dropping one into the bathwater and keeping the other for himself. Slocum stepped into the hallway, which immediately triggered an explosion of gunfire from the far end.
Lead punched into the wall and through the door frame, and hissed toward the stairs with no sign of letting up. When Slocum fell back into the room, he had to take a moment to make sure he was still in one piece. Although the gouges the buckshot had ripped along his back were still aching, he seemed to have all his other parts. As he waited for the shots to stop, he checked to count three rounds left in the cylinder of the gun he’d picked up.
As soon as the thunder stopped, Slocum leaned toward the door and shouted into the hallway, “That all you can do, Mike? Shoot at anything that moves?”
A door at the other end of the hall slammed shut and muffled footsteps rattled in the distance.
“Is there another way out of here from this floor, Kate?”
“Not unless he jumps out the window.”
Slocum glanced over to his own window, which was definitely large enough for a man to step through, and looked out onto the street. “Is there anything for him to climb on?”
She nodded. “He wanted the room above the front awning. Paid special for it.”
“Shit.”
No matter how prudent it would have been to bide his time and wait for a better chance to go after the bounty hunter, Slocum could already hear sounds from the other end of the nearly empty hotel that could easily be a window rattling in its frame and a man hopping out onto the awning. A few more seconds and Harper would be sliding to the street, where he surely had an escape route plotted out. If weasels like him were good for anything, it was planning an escape.
“Not if I can help it,” Slocum snarled under his breath.
Holding both guns at the ready, Slocum charged out of the room, kept his back to one wall, and rushed down the hall. The fact that he hadn’t been able to pull on his boots worked to his advantage because it kept his steps from thumping the way the others were throughout the hotel. Even so, the floor was creaking enough to make him certain that Harper knew he was coming.
Thanks to the scraping of feet against the awning and the last few rattles of the window, Slocum was able to pinpoint which room Harper was in. Keeping as low as possible, he set his sights on that door and made his approach. He tucked the borrowed gun under his arm so he could reach out to grab the door handle. As soon as he gave it a try, a shot blasted through the wooden barrier no more than eight inches over his head.
Swearing loudly, Slocum leapt to one side as more shots punched through the door. Kate had actually tried to help him on that score. She’d warned him that there might be two men left instead of just one. That meant one to make plenty of noise while climbing out through the window and another to spring the trap once Slocum came running. The fact that he’d played into that trap so well was Slocum’s damn fault.
So he’d been baited by a particular sound. There was no reason why he couldn’t use that same trick himself.
“Damn!” he grunted while throwing himself back against the lower portion of the wall. Even as his back hit and his body slid to the floor, Slocum watched the door that had just been blown to pieces. His senses were sharp enough to spot every splinter from each bullet hole and, more importantly, hear the sounds of the man on the other side of the door reloading his gun.
Slocum approached the door, stood to one side, and used one heel to knock it open. When no shots came, he jumped into the doorway while holding both guns in front of him. Although that wasn’t a practical way to fire the weapons, it made one hell of an imposing picture. At least the man standing just inside the room seemed to think so.
He was a lean fellow in his late twenties with a round face and a thin mustache. The style of his clothes was the same as Michael Harper’s: fancy yet rumpled. Caught after having replaced a few of his rounds, he snapped the cylinder shut.
“Not another move,” Slocum warned.
Behind the young gunman, the window was wide open. The scraping of boots against the awning was soon followed by a huffing breath and the impact o
f something heavy against the street.
When Slocum started walking toward the window, his path was blocked by the other man. Extending both arms to point the guns at him, Slocum said, “Drop your gun and step aside.”
The other man held his ground.
“Whatever Harper’s paying you ain’t enough to die for. Don’t be a fool. You already lost this one. Drop the gun and step aside.”
“You’re a killer and a coward,” the man said. “This is a chance for you to come along to take what’s coming to you. After this, it gets ugly.”
Slocum could hear footsteps crunching on the street below. They were fading fast and would soon be too far gone for him to follow. “This is as ugly as it needs to get for you,” he said. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t give a damn. Harper’s the one I want.”
The other man shook his head. “You’re a back-shooting son of a bitch. I ain’t afraid of you.” To prove his point, the young man brought his gun up to fire a shot at Slocum. He almost got a chance to squeeze his trigger before Slocum burned him down with a single shot from each of the guns he carried. Both rounds hit, but the one from the Colt Navy was the one that did him in. The gunman fell over, his last twitch sending a round through the floor.
When Slocum finally got to the window, all he could see was an empty street.
12
Slocum’s blood was flowing so quickly through his veins that he felt capable of running all the way back to Chicago if that meant getting his hands wrapped around Harper’s neck. But Harper wasn’t the root of his problem, and running off half-cocked was a real good way to catch a bullet between the eyes. The dandy bounty hunter may have skinned out of the hotel, but he did leave a lot of bags behind. Slocum used the fire in his belly to help him tear through those bags in short order.
A light footstep brushed against the floor in the hall, causing Slocum to turn toward it with his Colt held at the ready. Kate stood there with her hands pressed to her face and her eyes wide as saucers.
