Her eyes were wary again. “That you were just some man I used to know. No one special.”
His smile felt brittle, hard edged, and meaningless. “You didn’t use to be so cold,” he teased, like it didn’t matter.
“I didn’t used to be a lot of things.”
“So what did you decide?”
She stared at him, her eyes the color of the storm thundering around them. Within their misted depths he saw hurt and confusion.
“I’m sorry I never told you about Analise.”
He took another step closer to her. He couldn’t seem to help himself. “You did what you thought was best. I didn’t deserve to know.”
“It’s hard to remember that now that I know why you left,” she said, and he moved closer still. He could almost touch her now. “I wish you’d trusted me with the truth, though. Maybe we could’ve ...”
“We couldn’t have, Gracie, and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Because I knew you’d be looking for ways to prove me wrong. But you didn’t know Matt like I did.”
“I know he loved you. He wouldn’t have hurt you.”
When did he change?
Reilly exhaled, his fingers caressing the silk of her check.
“Did you ever meet my dad, Gracie?”
She shook her head. “Grandma Beck told me to stay away from him. She’d cross the street rather than walk on the same side. He died before you and I became a thing.”
A thing. Is that what they’d been? Young love in motion. He’d been obsessed with Gracie. The day didn’t start until he saw her. It didn’t end until he had to say good-bye.
“He didn’t die,” Reilly murmured.
“He crashed his car in the ruins,” she said, frowning. “It was all anyone talked about for weeks. That, and your poor mother.”
Reilly stood at the edge of the porch railing. The rain splattered him there, but he didn’t care. It felt good. Clean.
He’d been fourteen years old the day he and Matt had come home from school to find that his father had beaten their mother to death with her iron. Her iron. He’d been drunk, of course, and in a rage. By the time he’d called the job done—her face, her skull—there was little left but blood and gray matter. Most of that was smeared on his dad’s face and neck and hands.
Reilly leaned against the damp pole behind him, not sure if he could keep going. Silently, she came to stand beside him.
“You’ll get wet,” he said.
“I’ll dry.”
He nodded once, tried to smile but there was lump in his throat the size of a fist and he couldn’t even fake it.
“You know how my dad killed my mom?”
She nodded. Everyone had known. Small towns loved a good bloody drama and Diane Alexander’s bludgeoning had been too grisly not to share.
“Matt went nuts after we found her. We came home to all that blood in the kitchen. Dad was passed out, mom dead. I remember picking her up off the floor and then I didn’t know what to do with her. I just stood there, holding her, thinking, What now? I don’t know how long I stood that way before I realized that Matt had the iron and he was turning my dad’s head into mush.”
“But they found his car in the crater ... Everyone said he killed himself.”
Reilly shook his head. “Not without help he didn’t.”
When did he change?
Reilly stared at the rain. He didn’t want to look at Gracie, didn’t want her to see what was inside him as he confessed. “There’s bad blood in our family. I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by coming back into your life.”
Gracie closed the distance between them and took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Even when I hated you, I didn’t believe that.”
He slipped his arms around her and pulled her tight, burying his face in the fragrant softness between her neck and shoulder. She held him back, her lips against his throat, his cheek. She said nothing when his hands found the hem of her shirt and slipped under to glide across the warm satin of her ribs up to her lace-covered breasts. There, they stopped, as the feel of her overwhelmed him. No matter how strong she was, here, at her core, there was a fragility that he yearned to protect. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, and the sound of the pouring rain seemed to blend with the pounding of his pulse.
His feelings were a knot of confusion inside him, but he fought to find one that he could ride. He thought it would be desire, but it was something much more important.
She drew back and stared into his face. “You didn’t do me any favors leaving me, either, Reilly. I know that you think you did the right thing. I even believe that maybe you did. But it’s time to quit making excuses. You want to know if it meant something today? Only if you let it.”
Deep inside him, the yearning he’d lived with for far too long rose up and swamped him. She was asking for more than words, and he didn’t know how to answer. Not a day had passed when he hadn’t thought of her, yet he hadn’t tried harder to find her because the man he’d become understood what the boy he’d been never had. He could—he would—lose himself in her. He’d give up what he’d always been and become someone new. Someone vulnerable. Someone she could hurt.
And it fucking terrified him.
He stared into her eyes, saying nothing. She saw it all, though. The shutting down, the withdrawal. He still had his hands on her waist, still held her close enough to kiss, but it was already too late.
She pulled away with a bitter shake of her head, and Reilly wanted nothing more than to call her back. His body reacted before his thoughts and feelings could catch up and talk him out of it. He caught her hand and spun her around.
“That’s what I want,” he said, his voice gruff as the walls crumbled inside him. “I want it to mean something.” He paused and shook his head. “But I don’t want to fuck this up again. It almost killed me the first time.”
Gracie’s eyes shimmered as she turned into his arms and pressed her lips to his, letting her kiss speak for her. Reilly kissed her back with a desperation that shook him. He could almost hear the doors hidden in his heart bursting open, could feel the release of years of pain that had been sealed up behind them. He couldn’t get close enough to her. He wanted to strip her of her clothes and kiss her everywhere, savor the taste and feel of her without the barrier of the past getting in the way. He’d been confused, resentful, and inflamed when she’d come to his room earlier. What he’d given, what he’d taken, had come at price. Now, he felt free, and he wanted to just be with her, make love to her, let her make love to him.
He lifted his head, stared into her beautiful eyes, and saw a reflection of the avalanche of emotions he was feeling.
“I don’t think I ever stopped missing you,” she said.
His eyes burned, his throat felt raw. He swallowed, trying to hold it all inside until he could get her alone.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
“Yes.”
It was the best thing he’d ever heard, but at that moment, their daughter stepped out on the porch, and the world shifted again. Gracie tensed but she didn’t move out of his arms, and Reilly felt dizzy with relief. He understood the enormity of that small act of staying. She didn’t mean to let either of them hide away from the choices they’d just made.
He should have known. Gracie had never done things halfway.
Analise’s gaze took it all in—her mother’s flushed face, her body pressed against his. What did she see when she looked at Reilly? A disappointment? A broken man who’d never be a father?
Their daughter was so beautiful, so like her mother. So like him, in ways he could barely fathom. So undeserving of anything less than the best. Yet, he had nothing to offer but himself. With a deep breath, he met her gaze and hoped that would be enough.
CHAPTER 23
Analise stood there, looking back and forth between Gracie and Reilly, frowning at them both while a hot blush spread over Gracie’s face. She felt like a teenager caught making out instead of a responsible mother, b
ut she didn’t move away from Reilly. She could feel his tension, sense his uncertainty about what came next. Gracie knew how hard it had been for him to open up to her and she refused to give him the chance to shut down again. If there was ever going to be a future for them, it had to be in the open. That didn’t mean Analise needed details about how he made her heart race, though.
“Reilly and I were just catching up,” Gracie said. Analise didn’t roll her eyes, but Gracie could feel her disbelief. “Did you need something?”
Analise’s gaze darted past her and lingered on her father’s face. Gracie braced herself as the two eyed one another.
“So, you’re my dad,” Analise challenged.
“So, you’re my kid,” Reilly answered.
Analise’s chin came up. It was her defiant look, but Gracie could see the vulnerability around her mouth, the insecurity that lurked in her eyes.
“Your mom tells me you’re pretty smart.”
Analise shrugged.
“You must get that from her. I’m dumber than a horse’s ass.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, but she staunched the smile. “I know your music.”
Reilly couldn’t hide his surprise, and inside it, a hint of his own insecurity.
“I mean, I didn’t know it was your music. I mean, I didn’t know ...” She trailed off, blushing furiously. “I play the violin. And the piano. But I’m better on the violin.”
A bemused look crossed Reilly’s face.
“Maybe I get that from you. That would be cool. A little.”
Reilly nodded. “That would be cool. A lot.”
Analise grinned shyly. Reilly grinned back. And Gracie’s heart swelled so big she was certain it would break.
An awkward silence followed. Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, Gracie cleared her throat. “How are you feeling, Analise?”
“I’m okay, but everyone’s looking for the priest.”
“Michael? I saw him about an hour ago,” Gracie said.
“Bill knocked on our door and said they’ve checked every room in the house and can’t find him.”
Reilly and Gracie exchanged a glance. “Well, he couldn’t a have gone far,” Reilly said calmly. “Not in this storm.”
But thirty minutes later they’d gone through every room upstairs and down, and there was no sign of Michael. His bag was still in his room, his bed neatly made, a Bible on the nightstand. But the man himself was gone.
“What about the cellar?” Reilly said. “It’s the only place we haven’t checked.”
Analise and Brendan sat at one of the tables with Chloe and Jonathan. Tinkerbelle and Romeo circled at their feet, picking up on the tension.
Gracie led Reilly and Bill to the narrow door in the kitchen that opened onto a steep stairway. “It’s not really a cellar. It’s more a crawl space than anything,” she said, reaching for the string attached to the bare bulb that dangled overhead. The light came on, illuminating twelve rough wooden steps leading down to a pit as black as ink. “This is crazy. He’s not down there.”
There was a flashlight in a wall mount by the door. Bill pulled it free and switched it on. Juliet nudged in between their legs and started into the dark. The three were halfway down when the overhead bulb suddenly brightened and then dimmed, brightened and dimmed again. They paused looking up. The kitchen phone began to ring.
“Hold on,” Gracie said and hurried up to answer it. But when she lifted the receiver the phone was dead. She tapped the hook switch and listened again. Nothing. Slowly, she replaced the receiver and turned back to the waiting men. “It’s dead.”
But it began to ring again immediately, and each peal grew louder and louder. At the same time the kitchen lights blinked off and then on. Through the open door she could see the lamps in the front room doing the same.
Reilly came up the stairs and took the receiver from her hand, listened, then hung it up, but it kept ringing until Gracie felt like her eardrums would pop. Reilly pulled the phone off the wall and disconnected the line that went in the back, but the ringing kept on.
“What the ...”
The bare bulb in the stairway exploded, sending shards of glass in a rain over Bill. And the ringing stopped.
“Mom?” Analise said from the other room. “What’s going on?”
Brendan said something in answer, but Gracie couldn’t hear over her pounding heart. In the silence that followed, one by one, the lights switched off until the gathering gloom of the late afternoon cloaked the first floor of the Diablo.
Gracie looked at Bill, who stood frozen on the cellar stairs. The hand that clutched the flashlight looked very white against the darkness.
“That was weird,” Reilly said.
The understatement caught Gracie off guard. She gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”
He moved to the door and looked in at the kids sitting with Chloe and Jonathan. “Everyone okay out here?”
Owl eyed, they nodded. Brendan even smiled. Reilly raised his brows at that.
“Stay put. We’ll be back up in a minute.”
Back in the kitchen, he took Gracie’s hand. “You want to wait up here?” he asked.
Of course she did, but she shook her head.
“All right then. Let’s see what’s down there.”
Somehow Gracie managed to take the first step and then another, concentrating on the weak flashlight beam as she followed the two men down.
CHAPTER 24
June 1896
Arizona Territory
I was once again in control of myself by the time the others came laughing up the walkway, and I joined into their easy conversation with a composure that surprised even me. I felt Sawyer’s eyes watching and I knew inside he was laughing at me, but I ignored him and went on as if he wasn’t there. I still had to talk to him before the evening concluded, and I needed to seem calm when I did so. There were things to be settled before the doors of the Diablo opened for business.
When the others went upstairs, I decided I wouldn’t have a better opportunity to speak with Sawyer alone.
I found him at a table with a ledger book in front of him. He looked up when he saw me.
“I’ll ask about a stagecoach tomorrow,” he said, his tone serious. “Small place like this, it may not come regularly. May not come at all.”
A heady mixture of relief and disappointment coursed through me. He intended to help me get home. Home? The notion seemed foreign to me. I had no home. Home, for me, would be where I made it. But the relief that he didn’t intend for me to sell my body for him—to him—brought a rush of feeling.
“Thank you,” I said. I knew he was right about the stagecoach. I’d made the same realization myself. In the best of circumstances, I would be here for a few weeks. In the worst ... Well, I wouldn’t think of that. Either way, I would need money. I had only one dress, and though all of the girls had generously shared with me, none of them had much themselves.
I knew my parents would not approve of me earning wages in a saloon, no matter how nice it was, but I think even they would understand that my choices were limited. If I could convince Sawyer of my worth, I might save myself the other, more uncertain fate that awaited me.
I took a deep breath, mustering my courage, and went to sit at his table. He looked up, surprised, and then back down to the ledger book. He turned pages and frowned.
“I found this behind the bar. Looks like his accounting for the cost of this place. I can’t make much sense of it though.”
I leaned across the table. “May I see it?”
“You understand numbers?” he asked, surprised.
“I am a banker’s daughter.”
It appeared that was good enough for him. He nodded and gave me the book. I studied it for a moment, but it didn’t take me long to figure out why the previous owner had gambled the place away.
“He owed,” I said. “He owed quite a bit. From the looks of it, he still does. I guess that would be you now. You owe.”
Sawyer scowled. “The hell I do.”
“Evidently, he sold bits of the saloon to any takers that wanted some. Either you pay them their money or they get a share of your profits.”
“It says that?”
I showed him the note written on the pages.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” he said.
“No, it’s not. When you open your doors, you’ll be making money hand over fist.”
“I’ll need to.”
“That brings me to something ...” I took a deep breath and plunged forward. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I think we’re past that,” he said.
I ignored the baited words and the tone that made me feel hot inside. “I assume you’ll have gambling here?” I said.
“Hell, I’m not opening a boardinghouse. It’s a saloon. Of course there’ll be gambling.”
I stiffened my back at his sarcasm and continued. “It may surprise you to hear this, but I know how to play cards.”
“It won’t be pinochle played at the table.”
“I realize that. Truth be told, my father was a gambler.”
“Your father was a banker.”
“And a gambler. A poor one, as luck would have it, but a gambler all the same.”
“And you?”
“I am very good.”
My voice made a strange hitch over the double meaning of my words, which didn’t occur to me until midsentence. Sawyer watched me with guarded interest.
“I propose that you bank me into a game,” I said.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I will split my winnings with you.”
“Seems to me, that’s not one of your better propositions. I’m the only one risking anything.”
“I know it seems that way, but I promise you, I won’t lose.”
Sawyer grinned. “Now there’s a bet I’d take. If I had a dollar for every man I’d heard say that one, I’d be richer than God.”
I chewed the inside of my lip, wondering what I could do to convince him.
“You got something to put up for collateral?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I have only the clothes on my back.”
Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 187
