She was undressing for bed when she heard a noise that seemed to come from out back of the house. Instantly suspicious, Jess bristled. If her father had sent Devlin over in his absence, she would throttle both of them.
Dragging on a robe over her chemise and drawers and shoving her feet into slippers, Jess made her way to the kitchen pantry, where she got down the shotgun. Then she threw open the back door. It was dark outside, with nothing unusual in the night sounds.
"Devlin?" she called uncertainly. She descended the back steps slowly, her eyes scanning the small moonlit yard.
It was nothing she heard that alerted her to the danger; it was more like a sixth sense. Jess whirled just in time to see the dark figure of a man moving toward her, his arm raised, his hand clutching a long object that might have been a piece of firewood. His face was blackened by shadow, but she recognized the man. Hank Purcell, the superintendent of Burke's Lady J mine.
She had no time to wonder what he was doing there in her yard. She didn't even have time to protect herself. His arm descended and pain flashed in her temple. Then everything went black.
Her return to consciousness was slow and confused. She first became aware of the pain in her head . . . not too severe but dull and throbbing. Next, that her tongue felt dry and thick against the gag that had been stuffed into her mouth . . . highly uncomfortable. Then a smoky, cloying scent . . . sickly sweet and over-powering. Finally the low-volume noise . . . strange gurgling sounds accompanied by moans and sighs.
Wincing, Jess tried to raise a hand to her aching temple, but to her great bewilderment she found she couldn't. There seemed to be a cord around her wrists . . . and her ankles too, if the numb sensation in her feet was any indication.
Disoriented, she opened her eyes. She was lying on some kind of pallet, her head on an Oriental cushion of red-and-black silk. Squinting, she searched the dim, smoke-hazed room. Two dozen other people—mostly men dressed in the rough style of miners—reclined on other pallets and in the tall row of bunks that stood against one wall. A few women, half clad and with painted faces, lay beside the men. All of them were either sprawled in a state of dazed insensibility or occupied in taking long drags from long-stemmed pipes, which sent little clouds of smoke into the air.
This has to be one of the opium dens I've heard about, was Jess's first complete thought. They were smoking opium.
Her initial reaction was curiosity. All her life she had heard about these Chinese dens of iniquity, but she'd never seen one. Nobody she knew frequented these sinful places.
This one was no hovel—but no haven of luxury, either. The room was dark, save for the fitful gleam of the opium lamps. A young Chinese woman who looked much like Mei Lin was moving from pallet to pallet, checking the pipe bowls.
Her second reaction was pity for the young woman. Serving these misguided souls who were lost in the drugging influence of the poppy, perhaps giving her young body to their pleasure like Mei Lin had been forced to do, was one of the most horrible fates Jess could imagine.
Her third reaction was anger as she began to realize how she must have come to be here. Hank Purcell, she remembered witheringly. He had actually hit her, the sneaking coward.
Her fourth reaction was unease, bordering on fear. What did he intend to do to her? She had been abducted from her own house, brought here against her will, and now she was bound and nearly naked in an opium den. Her robe was gone and so were her slippers. All she had on was a thin cambric chemise that barely reached her knees—and that, at the moment, was riding up her thighs—and her lace-trimmed underdrawers. With rising panic, she struggled to push down the hem of her chemise, then tested the bonds at her wrists. They wouldn't budge.
Ordering herself to stay calm, Jess let her aching head fall back on the cushion. She had to think. How could she get herself out of this fix? She seriously doubted any of the opium-dazed people here would give her any help if she asked for it. Besides, she couldn't even speak with the choking gag crammed in her mouth. Her brain felt so foggy. . . .
The low male chuckle so close beside her startled her. Jerking her head around, Jess looked up to find Hank Purcell grinning down at her.
"Good, you're awake. It'll save me the trouble of bringing you around. Come on, now, we're gonna find you a little more privacy."
Before she could even try to understand what he meant, Purcell had pulled her to her feet and thrown her over his shoulder. The hard bone jammed into her stomach, knocking the breath from her body, while the blood rushed to her head, making her even dizzier.
She tried to fight back, but although she herself was no weakling, his lean, work-honed body was as powerful and unbending as steel. All her struggles were useless. When she did manage to drive her fists into the small of his back, he swore foully and brought the flat of his hand down on her bottom in a stinging slap, a warning for her to desist.
She was seeing spots by the time he carried her down a dark hall and through a doorway. From what she could tell in her awkward position, they were in a small room lit by a table lamp.
Purcell kicked the door shut behind him and dumped Jess on a pallet much nicer than the one she had just left. This was softer, for one thing, and was covered with red satin sheets. Unlike the other pallet, however, this low bed was surrounded by four-inch-diameter wooden posts protruding from the floor.
Purcell grinned as he began tying her bound wrists to one of the posts above her head. A minute ago, Jess had wondered what they were used for, but it wasn't hard to guess now, or to imagine herself spread-eagled on the pallet. Filled with real fear now, she resumed her struggles with renewed ferocity, yet the result was just as hopeless. In only a few moments he had trussed her up tight, her arms stretched high over her head, tied to one of the posts above, her ankles lashed to another post below. She could only twist helplessly and pant for breath behind the clammy gag. The only thing she could be grateful for was that her feet were still bound together. Purcell couldn't intend to rape her immediately, Jess told herself, or he would have made it easier for himself to get at her.
But if that wasn't why he had brought her here, then what did he want with her?
It seemed he didn't mind telling her. Still grinning, Purcell sat back on his heels and surveyed his efforts. "There, that should do it, Miss Jess. You're gonna be here a while. Nobody's gonna find you for a long time to come. You see, I gave you to Madam Wong. She was right pleased to have a new girl for her crib." He waved his hand at the furnishings. "This is one of Madam's special rooms. And you're gonna get to service all the special customers."
He had given her away? To a Chinese madam? In order to service all the special customers? Jess stared at him in shock and horror.
To her surprise, he loosened the knots behind her head and pulled the gag down. "Don't bother screamin'. It won't do you a lick of good. Nobody pays any mind to what goes on in an opium joint."
Knowing he was right, Jess bit back the scream that had risen to her throat. There would be little use. Instead she carefully flexed her aching jaw. Her tongue was paper-dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth.
"Why?" she rasped when she could manage to speak. "Why are you doing this?"
"For all the grief you and your pa have caused me."
Jess had never realized just how nasty a smile could be. Purcell looked highly pleased with himself.
"I don't think your pa is gonna be too happy to find you gone. It'll be worse when he learns what's happened to you here."
Wishing she could reach Purcell's smirking face with her nails, she gave a fierce tug on the rope, which made his gaze drop to her scantily clad bosom. A speculative gleam flashed in his brown eyes, just before he reached out to pinch her left nipple.
Jess flinched and tried to shrink away in disgust, but she couldn't move more than an inch or two.
"A week or two in a Chink cribhouse like this and you won't be so prissy," Purcell taunted as he deliberately fondled her breast. "Yo
u'll be right grateful for a man who ain't all doped up."
She gritted her teeth and tried not to gag.
"You ought to be nice to me, Miss Jess. I could ask Madam Wong to go easy on you, since you're new to this and all."
"You could also go to the devil!" Her tawny eyes flashed fire as she glared at him with impotent rage.
His nasty grin widened. "Too bad I don't have time to see to your training. I'd enjoy bringing you to heel—and it'd make my revenge even sweeter."
Jessica tried to swallow her fear. "Is that what this is about? Revenge? But we didn't do anything to you."
"Oh, yeah, you did. You're the reason Burke fired me."
"What are you talking about? Burke fired you?"
"Last week."
"I don't see how that's our fault."
"Your fault mostly. Burke said he didn't care much for my methods. Said the dynamite was bit too rough."
She gasped. "You set the charge in the Wildstar?"
"Could be. 'Course I've got more than enough reasons to be riled at you. I didn't much like it when you and that bastard Devlin killed one of my partners."
Trying to comprehend, Jess stared at him. There had been only one man she and Devlin had killed. "Zeke McRoy was your partner?"
Purcell's dark eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "Never mind that. Just you quit talkin' and listen up. I want you to be real clear about what happened between the Lady J and the Wildstar." His eyes narrowed and he seemed to look through her as he continued. "It started about four months ago. We were sinking a new shaft in the Lady J when we cut through a horse and found your pa's claim."
Jess frowned. A "horse" was a wall of bedrock, she knew. What she didn't understand was why Purcell was admitting his complicity in mining another man's claim.
"We dug a crosscut right into the Wildstar," he was saying. "We were stealing right under your pa's nose and he was too stupid to realize it."
"Why are you telling me this?" Jess asked in bewilderment.
"If I'm going down, I'm taking Burke with me. I owe him. I figure your pa won't take too kindly to knowing Burke was swindling him."
"We already guessed that. We just never had any proof Burke was behind the attacks."
"Oh, he was behind 'em, all right. He wanted that silver. Why do you think he was so hot to get his hands on the Wildstar? And then he fired me—" Purcell found his grin again. "The thing is, the joke's on Burke. I don't need his fuckin' job. I have enough money stashed away in the mountains to last a lifetime." He reached for her again. "Now lie still while I put this gag back on you."
Trying futilely to draw back, Jess sent him a hostile glare. "You won't get away with this."
"Who's gonna stop me?"
"I will . . . and Devlin."
He laughed, his expression a taunt. "You'd have to find me first. I'm headin' out of state, just as soon as I pay a little visit to some friends of mine up north."
"We'll find you! Just the way we found Zeke."
Purcell sneered. "Zeke was stupid, flashing his ugly face all over the territory. I should never have hired him."
"But you did. You must be pretty stupid, too."
He looked as if he might hit her, making Jess realize how foolish she'd been to bait him.
"Shut up," he warned. "I don't want to hurt you none. I'll leave that to all those fine bucks who are gonna come in here and show you a good time."
Jess shuddered at his threat, and cringed when he reached for her. When she realized Purcell only meant to gag her, though, she clenched her teeth tightly—and paid for her pitiful resistance. He forced her jaw open so painfully it made her cry out, then he stuffed the gag in her mouth, wrenching her neck as he retied the knots.
Finally, he stood up, his teeth flashing white. "You just lie there and enjoy it, Miss Jess."
He left her alone then. Simply turned and walked out, taking the lamp and shutting the door behind him.
Jess lay there shuddering, relieved that Purcell was gone but terrified by the pitch-blackness he had left behind. It was much like the horrible darkness that had accompanied the mine cave-in. The lack of light frightened her even more than Purcell's threats of sexual assault had, for it brought back that terrible nightmare.
Stop it, Jess! Think!
She bit back a sob and forced herself to take a deep breath. Any minute now she might have to fend off a visit by one of Madam Wong's patrons, and she stood little chance with her hands and feet tied to the posts. She also stood little chance of escape unless she could get loose from her bindings.
With renewed deliberation, she went to work on the cords at her wrists, plucking with her fingers. With her hands stretched above her head, she couldn't use her teeth as she would have liked.
She made no progress whatsoever. The knots resisted her every attempt at untying them. She tried clawing with her nails then, with marginally better results. The rough hemp began to fray after a time.
She didn't know how long she struggled—at least an hour, perhaps—before the door suddenly was flung open.
Jess jumped, and then winced at the bright stream of light flooding the small room. She couldn't make out the menacing figure standing in the doorway, but she was desperately afraid it was one of Madam Wong's special customers.
"Jessica?" The word was a harsh rasp. She knew that voice. It belonged to a man she'd declared she never wanted to see again as long as she lived.
Devlin stepped cautiously into the room, his revolver drawn.
Jess let out her breath on a sob. She had never been so grateful to see anyone in her entire life.
Chapter 16
Because of the darkness, Devlin had to fetch a lamp from the hall. Setting it on the small table just inside the room, he barred the door to prevent anyone else from entering, and knelt beside Jessica. His chiseled features were tight with anger as he loosened the knots of her gag.
"Are you hurt, Jess?" he demanded, going to work on the rope that held her tied to the upper post. The cold fury in his voice made her shiver.
"N-no," she croaked faintly. "Not much."
Devlin swore as he wrestled with the knots. When they finally came loose, Jess didn't wait for him to untie her bound hands or feet but threw herself at his chest with a grateful sob. Immediately she was enfolded in strong, comforting arms.
Devlin held her tightly, his cheek against her hair, his relief so profound at finding her unharmed that he was actually shaking. He could feel Jess trembling as well. She pressed herself fiercely against him, as if she wanted to burrow deep inside him.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured raggedly, soothingly. "It's okay. You can cry."
She shook her head. "I'm too mad to cry." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder, but the vehemence of her tone reassured him. Relief surged through Devlin, savage and sweet. He had his stubborn wildcat back. Any other woman who'd endured such an experience would be in deep shock, but not his Jess.
With fervent gratitude, he pressed his lips to her hair, which smelled faintly of opium. He knew he ought to finish untying her and get her out of here, but at the moment she seemed to need, more than rescue, just to be held.
Jess clung to him, soft and pliable, letting his strength renew hers. "How did you find me?" she finally asked.
"I called at your house," Devlin answered thickly. "You weren't at home, so I went to the boardinghouse. Mei Lin met me at the door, frantic because she wasn't sure where to find your father and didn't know what to do. She'd just been given a message for him."
"A message?"
"From the madam here. It seems Madam Wong recognized you and sent for Riley."
"My father's here?" She sounded alarmed. "I don't want him to see me like this."
"He won't," Devlin soothed. "He doesn't even know about it yet. Mei Lin's husband helped me find this place. I showed up here ten minutes ago and threatened to burn this building down if Madam Wong didn't produce you immediately."
Jess shiver
ed. She had no trouble envisioning Devlin getting his way with Madam Wong; he could be devastatingly forceful when he chose. "I don't think it was her fault that I'm here. Hank Purcell is the one to blame. He brought me here and tied me up."
"So Madame Wong said," Devlin returned grimly, recalling the score he had to settle with Purcell. "Thank God she was more interested in earning your father's goodwill than in profiting from your services. She's a good businesswoman. She knew Riley would be grateful for her keeping you unharmed, and her calculation paid off. I intend to reward her well for her trouble."
Jess shuddered, violently this time, as she remembered precisely what depraved "services" Purcell had meant for her. "He gave me to that woman," she exclaimed with fresh outrage.
"Shhhhh, angel," Devlin said quietly, stroking her bare arm. "It's over."
His palm was warm and soothing against her skin— which made Jess suddenly realize that she had very little clothing on. Her cheeks flooded with hot color. How humiliating to be found in such a scandalous condition by Devlin, half naked in a den of iniquity, tied to a bed whose purpose was certainly not sleeping. She shouldn't allow him to hold her like this, either, but she didn't want to move. His warmth, his strength, his clean masculine smell were chasing away the horrors of the past hours. She didn't want him to let her go.
Devlin wasn't about to let go, though. He liked having Jess cling to him, to need him the way she had during the mine cave. It made up for some of the savage hurt that she'd inflicted so thoroughly on him during the past two weeks, mitigating his ravaged pride and his outraged sense of injustice.
As if she'd had a similar remembrance about the mine disaster, Jess suddenly drew back, her fingers clutching at his waistcoat. "The dynamite! Devlin, it was Purcell. He was the one who set the charge that nearly killed us."
"He told you that?"
"He wouldn't admit it outright, but he didn't deny it, either. And he said that was why Burke fired him. Purcell told me all about stealing ore from the Wildstar. They cut into our lode, which was why Burke wanted our mine."
Wildstar Page 27
