“The girls,” she said softly.
At their blank look, Chloe pointed to the pictures hanging around them.
“The women were the entertainment.”
After that, it made sense. The letter following each entry must be an initial. Gracie came to a new page with Aiken Tate written at the top. This sheet seemed to show Aiken’s investment in the business and the daily debits against that. In a matter of weeks, his stake dwindled to almost nothing.
“He was a gambler,” Chloe said. “Not a very good one, though.”
A sudden crack of thunder startled them all, followed by the deafening roar of the downpour. Gracie tried not to think of the rising water, of the risk that torrential floods posed. The Diablo was old. How much force would it take to sweep it off its moorings?
Gracie looked back at the long column of numbers and turned the page. Each page looked much like the first, some with different names at the top, some dated, all in that neat hand.
Until the next one. The date at the top was August 26, 1896, and though the handwriting seemed to be the same, the penmanship was no longer tight and methodical. Numbers crept from their designated column, some scratched out, others written over with such carelessness it was impossible to read. A few of the columns hadn’t been totaled at all. And in the margin, the words, He’s not coming back.
A sound came from upstairs, and they all tilted their heads back. All but Michael. He sat at the table, huddled in a blanket even though it was still hot inside. His eyes looked dull, his skin gray. He hadn’t spoken since his whispered, He wants what’s his. He’s everywhere.
The next page had few numbers, more writing: A baby is on the way. He’s never coming back, but sometimes I feel him. Does that make me crazy?
It went on like that, little notes scrawled at random. Sometimes they were mixed into the columns of numbers, sometimes they took up the whole page. Most made little sense to Gracie but Chloe seemed to be connecting the dots as they appeared, and she whispered her own narration after reading each entry.
“These are Ella’s notes. Look there.” She pointed to the word Misery, circled with no explanation. “That’s my mother’s name.”
“Your mother was named Misery?” Analise exclaimed.
Chloe nodded but was too distracted by the ledger to explain. Bill had found a hurricane lamp in a cupboard, and it flickered on the table. Suddenly, the flame began to dance. All three dogs lifted their heads from where they lay on the floor.
The room felt too still, too silent, and the air too thick. The scent of meat still simmered in the warmth, and the storm was battering against the windows. The candles burning around them seemed incapable of holding back the clustered dark, and Gracie wished that Reilly would hurry up. The feeling of foreboding had been growing by the moment, and she couldn’t tamp it down.
Something moved to her right. She froze, her startled scream silenced deep in her chest as the hazy form of a man took shape less than a foot away. Full of fear and surprise, Gracie stared at him as he faded in and out of focus, but she could see Chloe and Analise from the corner of her eye, still bent over the ledger, unaware of him.
“Who’s Sawyer?” Analise asked. Chloe didn’t answer, never looking up from the page. Bill had joined them, but Michael still sat, staring off into space.
Slowly, Brendan pushed his chair back and stood. He was staring at the man, too.
The hazy man tilted his head, as if confused by what he saw. She sensed a frustration in him and then a pressure that strummed hard against her fear. Cautiously, she got to her feet.
“Where you going, Mom?” Analise asked.
She turned, and the man faded to a dim glow, but on the other side of the room, a hard light began to pulse and grow. Gracie felt something lingering in the shadows, a presence that meant them harm. The two lights took up places opposite one another, flickering with a sinister rhythm, casting shadows in every corner. One of them began to grow and elongate as the other shrunk to a pinpoint. Gracie’s heart seized as the bigger of the two became a shape with legs and arms.
“Shit,” Brendan breathed.
At last, Chloe and Bill looked up. A second man appeared, this one crystal clear and fully formed. He wasn’t much taller than Gracie, and he was dressed in a tie, jacket, vest, and trousers. Though formal, the clothes looked worn and threadbare. A feeling of menace spread out from him, lit from within, as thick and terrifying as the cloying scent in the air. It rolled over her like a dark wave, filled with vengeance, hatred.
A door banged upstairs and all of them jumped and looked up—all but Brendan who stood transfixed in horror as he stared into the black glitter of the apparition’s eyes.
Footsteps sounded above until they reached the stairs. At first Gracie felt relief as she saw Reilly’s legs coming down the steps. But then she realized he had his hands behind him and his expression was grim.
The apparition beside her hissed and wavered, but a new terror had replaced her fear of it. Jonathan followed Reilly ... and held a gun pressed to his head.
CHAPTER 30
June 1896
Diablo Springs
The night passed in a blur that left no time to think about Sawyer and what he may or may not be thinking about me. I told myself I was relieved, but I knew it was a lie. And each time I caught my breath and looked up, it was to find him doing the same. Aiken remained at my table through most of the night, gambling with skill but no luck. A rough-voiced miner sat to his right and trumped him at every hand. A smarter man would have left the table, but Aiken seemed determined to be the last player of the night. He nearly was. The men who had burst through the doors in the early afternoon seemed disinclined to leave the same way. They stayed and drank until the drunken rowdiness created a din all around us. For the most part they were respectful around me and the other girls, but I was not fool enough to think that would last once they grew used to our presence.
It was after three in the morning when the last man stumbled from the saloon into the street. Aiken stayed at my table, watching with narrowed eyes as Sawyer locked the doors and pulled out the money he’d collected that night. I stood and brought my winnings to the bar. Sawyer looked up as I crossed, and once again I felt hot from the gaze that traveled my body.
“Made yourself a fortune tonight, looks like,” Aiken said amiably, watching as Sawyer sorted through the money.
“Did all right.”
Aiken’s pockets should have been bulging, as well, but he’d lost his money faster than the girls could earn it. Not an easy feat when all of them, right down to Athena, had been servicing the customers without pause since business had begun. I couldn’t allow myself to think of the hours they’d spent upstairs or the exhaustion they must feel right now.
Sawyer counted out the money I’d delivered, took his cut, and pushed what was left back to me.
“You did fine tonight,” he said.
“She cheated, is what she did. She’s going to get us both shot if she’s not careful.”
Sawyer’s eyes snapped to my face. “I didn’t cheat,” I said angrily. “You are simply unlucky, Mr. Tate.”
His face reddened at that, and I knew I should have kept the last jibe to myself. But he infuriated me. How dare he accuse me of cheating?
“You best check on your own business,” Sawyer said, his voice calm but deep enough to tell me he hadn’t liked what Aiken had said. He hadn’t exactly defended my honor, but I knew he believed me over Aiken and that only added to the jumble of mixed-up feelings inside me.
He pulled out his ledger and handed it to me.
“She doing your books, too?” Aiken said. “A piece of tail like her? She’ll rob you blind and you’ll deserve it.”
I picked up a pencil and forced my attention to the columns. Ignoring Aiken, Sawyer set two glasses on the bar and splashed three fingers of amber whiskey into each. To my surprise, he pushed one in my direction and took the other himself, leaving Aiken out completely. I’d never d
runk whiskey, though after tonight I certainly smelled of it. It had been splashed over my hands, my arms, my dress, my neck, and in my hair at least a dozen times.
“I see how it is,” Aiken said when neither of us responded to his insult. “You think you can muscle me out, you’re wrong. I ain’t no fool you can just set off like I don’t own a bit of what’s what.”
Sawyer looked at him then. “You don’t own any of it, Tate.”
Aiken frowned. “I was good enough to borrow from when you needed it.”
“And I’m good enough to pay you back. Nobody’s questioning that. You got your girls working under a roof. You got your business. Don’t mess with mine.”
Aiken looked at me as if I were to blame for what Sawyer had said. “I thought we was partners.”
“I never said that. Never did.”
“But I was good enough to borrow from.”
Sawyer picked up the stack of money beside him and counted out five hundred dollars. I knew we’d been busy, but I’d no idea that he’d brought in so much. When he was done, there were still small satchels of gold and coins piled beside him. I estimated over a thousand dollars had been made in the one night. I, myself, had close to thirty dollars of winnings that were mine. I didn’t know how much it would cost to send Chick and Athena on their way, but it was a good start.
Aiken looked at me as if he’d read my mind, reminding me that tickets to somewhere else were not all I needed for them. They would have to disappear, vanish without a trace. How would I accomplish that?
“Aiken?” Meaira called from upstairs. “Are you comin’?”
I’d learned that Aiken kept Meaira on short supply when there was work to be done. I could hear the yearning in her voice now, the raw need to have her awareness dulled. I couldn’t blame her.
Sawyer pushed the five hundred dollars at Aiken. “I’ll have you paid before the month is out.”
“I never said you had to do it all at once,” Aiken said, trying to push it back.
“No, but I can see it’ll be for the best.”
Aiken looked back and forth between me and Sawyer, and I knew he wanted to argue. I knew he liked having Sawyer owe him. I wanted to plop my thirty on top of Sawyer’s hundreds, but I knew that the gesture would infuriate Aiken more than anything, and I was smart enough, for once, to restrain myself. I had an idea though. I counted ten dollars from my pile and handed it to Sawyer.
“My rent,” I said.
He had a poker face I couldn’t fault, and only a flicker of his eyes gave him away. Beside me, Aiken shifted uncomfortably, reminding me of a street dog backed into a corner with a bone.
“Your girls are using four rooms, that right?” Sawyer asked.
Aiken nodded suspiciously.
“You want to pay cash or you want your room and board to go against the debt?”
I saw understanding dawn for Aiken, and with it, anger that crept up his face and stained it a dirty red. “We didn’t never talk about rent.”
“I could be letting those rooms,” Sawyer said, taking a drink of whiskey. “I already got the other two going tomorrow. Won’t charge you what I charge them—not by half, but I expect you to keep that between us.”
Sawyer’s voice rang clear and honest, and I knew he meant it. He wouldn’t swindle Aiken, though I wished he would. He took another drink and then played his ace, which I had not suspected he held.
“To show you I’m fair, you can play your cards with house credit until my debt is squared.”
This, I saw, was a generosity Aiken didn’t expect. It went long in appeasing the insult of paying rent. But what I knew and Aiken did not, was that Sawyer had set a trap of his own making. For Aiken could not resist the cards, nor could he win if he was forced to play by the rules. He’d been cheating at his own table for so long, that he believed he had a gift for gambling. But he was no better than my father. By giving him his bankroll up front, Aiken would play more daringly, and he would lose. I knew it without a doubt.
I felt Aiken’s eyes shift to me, and I quickly lifted the glass of whiskey Sawyer had given me and took a small sip. The alcohol burned my throat and set me to coughing. Aiken laughed meanly.
“That’s a deal. Against your debt, all of it.”
“I’ll need your mark before you have any of it.”
“I’ll give it.”
And with another mean glance my way, he turned toward the stairs as Meaira’s pitiful voice called out again. He paused as he set his foot to the first riser. “Almost forgot to tell you,” he said. “I heard Jake Smith is still hunting for her. If I was you, I’d turn her over before he finds her.”
I’d almost brought the coughing under control but his threatening words started me anew. I felt I would choke on the burn the liquid left in my throat and the fear his words seared in my thoughts. Sawyer came around the bar and patted my back awkwardly until the coughing subsided. Tears were in my eyes as I struggled to draw a breath. Sawyer stood beside me until I got myself under control again.
“All right?” he asked.
It seemed an insane question to me when Aiken’s words still rang in my ears. Sawyer didn’t wait for me to answer. He went back behind the bar, scooped all the money and the ledger into a box, and disappeared into the storeroom. I heard thumping and sliding, as if he were moving something heavy out of the way. I stayed where he’d left me, unsure of what to do next.
He stepped from the back room and I slowly stood. I smoothed the fabric of my dress with nervous hands. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I felt him watching my every movement.
“Jake isn’t going to touch you,” he said softly.
Surprised, I jerked my gaze from the floor to his face. “What did you say?”
“No one’s touching you but me.”
In two steps he was beside me. Without waiting to hear my response, he swept me off my feet and cradled me against his chest. My arms circled his neck, and I held on as he carried me toward the stairs. A million thoughts flashed through my head but not one of them was no. Not one.
He carried me as if I were a child, and I let him. It seemed like years had passed since anyone had taken care of me or sheltered me from the world beyond, yet only a few weeks ago my father had been alive and watching over my family. How different my life was now. But as I looked into Sawyer’s face, I realized I felt no fear. In fact, somehow I’d come to trust him. Whatever happened next, I knew my trust would not be shaken.
He carried me into his room and kicked the door shut. Neither of us had spoken since he’d lifted me into his arms, but words seemed unnecessary. My heart was pounding like the hooves of a stampeding herd, and my dress seemed suddenly four sizes too small instead of only two.
Sawyer dropped the arm beneath my legs, and let me slide slowly down his body, until I was standing in front of him with less than a breath of air between us. The moonlight fell across the floor and turned our world into a silver-edged cocoon where only the two of us and the tension that trembled between our bodies existed. He lifted a hand and placed it on the swell of my breasts. I inhaled sharply at the heat of the contact. Slowly, he moved his hand down, watching my face as his fingers cupped my breast. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, but I didn’t care. I only wanted more.
Amazed at my boldness, I leaned into him and raised my mouth to his. My small gesture of surrender, or perhaps aggression, seemed to unleash the need he’d trapped inside. His arms circled me and pulled me tight against his chest, the buttons of his shirt pressing into my skin. I ran my hand through his soft hair and opened my mouth to his kiss. He lifted my feet from the floor and moved closer to the bed. I braced myself for something rough, something taking and unknown. I’d seen glimpses through the tent flaps of what happened next, and I was afraid of it. I expected things to go fast now, for him to act as the men I’d seen had—as if they couldn’t believe their good fortune and they wanted to press their advantage before minds could be changed and opportunities lost.
&
nbsp; But Sawyer’s arms loosened, and I now I feared that he would let me go and I would be the one left with chances ended before they’d begun. Once again my body slid down his until I stood in front of him, the top of my head beneath his chin. I was afraid to look up, embarrassed by my behavior, more so by the lust that surely showed on my face. I kept my eyes fixed on his chest and my splayed fingers. The fabric of his shirt was worn and soft, warm from his skin, which I longed to touch. His throat was golden brown from hours in the sun.
I looked higher at the strong line of his chin and the gold-flecked stubble that had grown since he’d last shaved. His lips were soft and dusky beneath the mustache, moist from my kisses. His face was weathered, creased from squinting his eyes as he looked across a horizon. White filled in the lines that fanned from their corners where the sun couldn’t reach. And then I was looking into those hazel eyes of his, and what I saw made my heart somehow stumble. There was the need that I felt in myself, but with it was an uncertainty, not that he wanted me but that I wanted him. I understood instinctively, and it made me feel bold and sure when I had no right, no experience to validate the feeling.
He surely saw the wonder as my emotions played on my face, and then he smiled, a slow, alluring smile that made everything inside me feel hot and pliable, like melting wax. His hands moved up and around from my back to my ribs to just below the swell of my breasts. He moved his thumbs lightly over my nipples, watching my face as reaction went through me. I arched against him without meaning to and slid my arms around his neck, pulling his head down so I could kiss him. His mouth hovered over mine for a moment that was at once exquisite and torture. Our breath mingled and I breathed him in, wanting to keep the scent and taste of him in my memory forever.
And then his mouth was over mine, his tongue against my lips, which parted without hesitation. I’d never known anything could feel like this total surrender. His fingers fumbled with the buttons down my back, but mine had no trouble freeing him of his shirt.
I’d pulled the two sides open and pressed my mouth to his chest before he’d freed the first of the tiny pearl-like fastenings that ran down my spine. He made a sound of frustration and turned me. I reached back and started with the last of them as he struggled with the top. After the first came free the others followed willingly, and before I knew it, he was pushing the shoulders down and the dress pooled at my feet. My heavy breasts swung free from their confines, and I was grateful. His touch had made them swell and feel trapped by the tightness of the bodice. He turned me again, like a doll, and I stood between his large, workingman’s hands in only my chemise. He had no troubles with the lacings, and in an instant, he’d loosened them. His hands were indescribably gentle as he smoothed the cotton down until it fell away.
Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 191
