Accidental Heiress

by Lauren Nichols

  Belle snapped the deep valise shut on the jewelry she’d hastily gathered, then came around the desk to meet him eye to eye. Her face was livid. “Look, Mr. Testosterone, you work for me. So if you want your cut of the money, you just shut your mouth and do what I tell you. We need a hostage. Now haul her out to the truck.”

  Casey winced in pain as Deke grabbed her arm, jerking her to her feet. Ross scrambled up, too. “Let her alone, Deke! I’ll go with you.”

  The dull-faced young man with the frizzy blond ponytail—Tom—shoved Ross back down on the floor.

  “You’re going to regret this,” Deke warned Belle.

  Belle scowled back. “Just get her out of here.”

  What happened next was lost in a blur of shouts and gunfire. Deke began to drag her, kicking and struggling, to the back door to the alley; Ross shot to his feet again and propelled himself at Deke. Then there was a gun in Tom’s hand and, without changing his flat, disinterested expression, Tom fired at Ross. Ross crumpled like a rag doll beside Belle’s desk.

  “Ross!” Casey screamed. “Ross!” But he didn’t answer, didn’t move.

  “Save your breath,” Deke said. “No one can hear you. Every merchant on the block’s been locked up and gone for hours.”

  But as the back door opened and Deke dragged her through it, Casey screamed again.

  Deke’s big hand clamped suffocatingly over her nose and mouth and kept applying pressure, smothering her cry for help. She fought him, fought for air, dug her feet into the grit of the alleyway. But he was too big, too strong. As he dragged her into the truck, a blackness that was unrelated to the night swallowed her up, and Casey felt herself lose consciousness.

  The shop was dark and seemingly deserted when Jess arrived, but he knew that, like most of the other pre-1900 shops on Frontier Street, the ex-bordello had a small stone cellar. Heart hammering, he went around to the back door, turned an unyielding knob, then, as quietly as he could, shoved a shoulder against it. Wood splintered, and the door gave. Belle’s rear office was dark, too.

  Jess moved across the floor, leading with his gun, blood racing every which way in his veins. God, please let them be all right, he prayed. Just keep them safe, and I’ll never let either of them out of my sight again.

  His right boot kicked something.

  It groaned.

  Adrenaline shot through his system, and Jess backpedaled away to fumble for a light switch, all the while keeping his gun aimed toward the body on the floor. He snapped on the light. And his breath left him when he saw Ross sprawled, hands tied behind him, on the floor in front of the desk. Blood stained the carpet around his waist.

  Holstering his gun, Jess scrambled to his brother’s side; he was breathing, thank God, and the pulse in his neck was fairly strong. The wound to his side looked bad, but the bleeding had almost stopped. Quickly, he untied Ross’s hands.

  Snatching the phone from the desk, he punched in Cy Farrell’s number. “Cy, this is Jess. There’s been a shooting at Belle Craw ford’s. We need an ambulance over here right away.”

  “You stay right there,” Farrell ordered. “I’ll—”

  Jess hung up and tried to rouse his unconscious brother. “Ross?” He shook him gently. “Ross, are you okay?” Then, “Dammit, Ross, answer me!”

  Ross’s eyes flickered open, and he swallowed, his face creased with pain, his voice thready. “Jess.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I—I think so. They...took Casey. Tried to stop them, but Tom...shot me.”

  “Where? Where did they take her?”

  “B-Babylon,” he rasped. “And hurry. They’re...taking her...on the road with them.”

  Outraged, Jess looked around for something to stanch the remaining flow of blood around Ross’s ribs. He found a shop smock Belle must have used and wedged it inside Ross’s shirt.

  “Ross?” His brother was out again. “Ross?” This time the blue eyes opened. “I have to go. Farrell and an ambulance are on their way. Tell Cy where I’ve gone.” Then he ran out, jumped in the Blazer and roared off. He passed Farrell’s Jeep fishtailing around the corner, lights flashing and sirens wailing. But, thankfully, Cy didn’t recognize Pruitt’s car. If he’d seen Jess behind the wheel, he would have detained him, and tonight Jess would not be detained.

  Casey squirmed frantically in the straight-backed chair, feeling the coarse rope dig into her wrists as she tried to loosen her bonds. Her pulse raced. Belle and her two “delivery men” would be back soon, and if she didn’t get loose, she’d soon be on her way to a secluded mountain cabin in the Idaho Rockies. And she knew that—if she actually made it that far—she’d never leave there alive. Not after the cold-blooded way Ross had been shot. God! she thought, blinking back tears. She’d believed that big, brawny, muscle bound Deke was the man to fear most. But Tom had fired at Ross without emotion, without conscience.

  Sweet Lord, there’d been so much blood. Jess had to get to him! He had to ignore Belle’s threats and get Ross to a hospital.

  Casey strained harder at her bonds. She was in one of the six small, weathered cabins that dotted the woods below Babylon’s infamous main lodge—a bungalow that had once been used as a modern-day “crib,” according to Belle. Now the musty-smelling, lurid little room, with its peeling gold wallpaper and green paper blinds, was being used for storage. Shredded red velvet drapes hung from two windows, and beside a jumble of boxes and cartons, a motley collection of velour sofas and love seats were pushed against one wall, vintage bordello, in peacock blues and reds. Matted shag carpeting that had been gold at one time was now black with mildew and fouled by rodents.

  Next to Casey, a brass lamp with a tassled shade sat on a scarred table, dribbling forty watts’ worth of light into the room.

  Footsteps sounded outside and, her heart leaping, Casey swung her head toward the door. Deke walked in. Before he could shut the door, the lively plinks and tinkles of a player piano drifted down from the lodge, reminding Casey that there were people up there. People who weren’t on Belle Craw ford’s payroll. If she could just get up there where all those expensive cars were parked, she’d be okay. Belle, Deke and Tom wouldn’t dare touch her in front of witnesses.

  Deke threw the dead bolt.

  Casey sat stone-still as Deke strutted over to her, smiling cruelly. Everything about the man was flagrantly macho. He wore his black hair long and slicked back, his jeans were tight where he wanted them to be, and his pale blue shirt—purposely too small, Casey thought—was unbuttoned nearly to the waist. Two heavy gold chains nested in the thick black mat of his chest hair.

  “Cap’s on the truck, and we’re all packed, Princess,” he drawled. “So, like the beer commercial says...time to head for the mountains.” In the stingy lamp light, a new-looking stallion charm glinted from the watch chain at his hip. And somehow Casey knew that the elk fob Farrell had found at Moe Jackson’s place had been Deke’s.

  “You could leave me here,” Casey said, struggling for calm. “No one will think to look for me here, and... and it’s bound to be crowded with four in the—”

  “In the cab?” Deke leaned down, and Casey smelled lime aftershave and whiskey. “But you won’t be in the cab, honey. You’ll be in back, with the rest of the baggage.” He slid his dark eyes over her, seeming to take inventory, seeming to like what he saw. “Who knows?” he drawled. “If you’re real lucky, I just might come back there and visit awhile. Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.”

  Bile rose and burned in Casey’s throat, and her heart beat faster. She’d feared one of the men would eventually get around to this. Which was why she had been racking her mind for a means of escape ever since she was taken hostage. Given the layout of the cabin, only one weak plan had come to mind.

  But a weak plan was better than no plan, when you had nothing to lose.

  “I...I need to use the bathroom first.”

  Deke untied her feet and scowled. “Too bad.”

  “Oh, please,” she pleaded. “I’
ve been sitting here for a long time, and before that we were at Belle’s shop. I really need to use the ladies’ room before we start traveling.”

  He stood, unaffected, and Casey blinked back terrified tears. He would put her in that truck, take what he wanted, and when it suited him, he would kill her.

  Oh, God, Jess, find me. Find me.

  What she said next nearly gagged her, but she had no choice. “When...I mean...if you come back to visit me during the trip...it will be more enjoyable for...for both of us if I use the bathroom first.”

  “For both of us?”

  Casey fought her revulsion. “All right, for...for me. You look like the kind of man who...who could give a woman a lot of pleasure. You’ve obviously taken very good care of your body.”

  Deke stared at her for a long moment, then began to smile. Casey hoped he was thinking that having a cooperative woman would be better than taking an unresponsive one.

  “That’s what you want?” he chuckled smugly. “You want to enjoy it?” But the chill in his eyes reminded her that no matter what happened between them, she was still a hostage—and she was expendable.

  Casey swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Then maybe we should get you to the bathroom.” Reaching behind her, he untied her ropes, then gripped her arm and led her into a small alcove and a barely functional bathroom. His voice went cold and brusque as he clicked on another low-wattage light. “Be quick about it. You can close the door, but I’ll be right outside. And don’t think about leaving through the window. It’s too small.”

  It was too small, Casey thought, hurrying inside and quickly scanning the dreary room for something—anything—to use as a weapon. She’d prayed the bathroom would be crowded with crates and boxes, as the main room was. But the only things in it besides a rusty claw-footed bathtub were a seat less toilet with a cracked porcelain tank lid and pipes sticking out of the floor where a sink had once stood. A half roll of toilet paper sat on the cracked linoleum floor.

  Her gaze snapped back. The pipes.

  “Snap it up in there!” Deke called.

  “Be right out!” Praying for courage, Casey flushed the toilet, latched on to one of the old black metal water pipes and tried to twist and jerk it out of its connection beneath the linoleum. The sound of the toilet flushing wasn’t loud enough to cover the rattling of the pipes beneath the floorboards.

  “What are you doin’ in there? Get out here right now, or I’m comin’ in!”

  “Wait! Just one more minute!” Fear razed every nerve, and Casey cast about desperately for something else.

  Muttering, Deke grabbed the doorknob.

  And suddenly the only available weapon—the cracked porcelain tank cover—was in her hands and the door was flying open.

  Casey swung with all her might, knocking Deke backward with a surprise blow to the chest and throat. Then she flew past him and headed for the front door, hearing him cursing behind her.

  She scrambled to open the door, but the dead bolt held it. Precious seconds fled as her fingers fumbled with the latch, then finally yanked it back. Deke came thundering after her.

  The woods were a mad black tangle of pines and dense underbrush, but she bolted for its cover, snapping twigs, batting at brambles and saplings that scratched her arms and caught at her hair and clothes. But if she’d tried to make it to the lodge and the sanctuary of its clients, Deke would have caught her before she made it to the door. She knew the blow she’d struck hadn’t seriously hurt him; she’d only slowed him down for a few moments.

  Suddenly, her foot caught on a protruding root, and she went sprawling into a depression, then slid on a bed of pine needles into some thick underbrush. Panting, wincing in pain, she stayed there. Deke was crashing through the woods after her now, firing threats and swearing to kill her, and she hoped with all her heart that the noise he was making had covered hers. She waited breathlessly until he’d passed her and his cursing seemed to echo from another direction. Then, calling on every ounce of energy she had left, she raced back the way she’d come, her heart near bursting as she exited into the grassy lawn and sprinted for the well-lit lodge—and safety. Her lungs were burning, and her legs were giving out.

  She heard him yell, and like an unstoppable locomotive, he was coming again. Just as she broke, gasping, into the amber glow of the spotlights ringing Babylon’s gleaming pine exterior, she heard the scream of sirens in the distance. Blessed, screaming police sirens!

  A red Blazer roared down the gravel driveway, and Casey ran toward the headlights. Thankful tears spilled over her cheeks as the sirens grew closer and she saw their red lights through the pine trees. The Blazer skidded to a gravel-spraying stop and the driver vaulted out.

  Then Jess was running to her, lifting her into his arms and clinging to her for dear life.

  Casey clung, too. “Jess, Ross is hurt. He’s at—”

  “He’ll be okay. He’s at the hospital. God, I’ve never been so scared in my life. I love you,” he murmured, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her hair. “I love you. I don’t know why it took something like this to make me say the words, but I swear, it’s true.”

  Oh, how she wanted it to be, Casey thought, welcoming his kisses and his arms for another long moment. Except it was just too easy. She moved out of his embrace.

  Jess’s face registered surprise and confusion, then uncertainty. “Casey? What’s wrong?”

  But the sheriff and several deputies were hurrying toward them, and now wasn’t the time for an explanation.

  “Belle and one of her men are inside the lodge,” Casey said quickly. “His name’s Tom, he’s about five-ten, with a blond ponytail, and he’s armed. There’s another man—in the woods, I think. He’s tall, muscular, black hair, tight clothes and lots of jewelry.”

  Farrell nodded. “We’ll get him. You need a doctor or anything?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Then you can go for now. We need to get this place secured, and we don’t want civilians around, in case there’s any gunfire. I’ll want you to come into the office tomorrow morning to give us a statement.”

  “Not too early,” Jess told Farrell, gathering Casey into his arms again. “She needs some rest right now.”

  “Ten o’clock’s early enough,” Farrell grunted, then walked back to his deputies. “No slipups, now,” he warned his assistants. “Don’t forget to advise these fine people of their rights.” Then he was returning to his Jeep for a bullhorn and ordering everyone out of the lodge.

  Jess seated Casey in the Blazer, then drove up to the main road and out of harm’s way before he pulled over and parked. She watched his eyes turn bleak in the illumination of the dashboard lights as he surveyed what were probably scratches on her face.

  “Did you hear what I told you before?” he asked quietly. “Casey, I love you.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I heard you.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  What was wrong was, sometimes things were said in the heat of the moment—and out of fear—that ended up causing hurt if they were taken too seriously. It had been a very emotional night. His brother had been shot, she’d been abducted... and only last night, Jess had told her that her place was back east with her family. He might think he loved her. But did he really? Would he feel the same way when their lives settled down and he had time to think things through?

  Casey slipped back into his arms, hearing Jess’s sigh of relief as he pulled her close. She would take what she could for now, because she desperately wanted his words to be true. She would wait for his change of heart...and pray it didn’t happen.

  The warm, silky water of the hot spring felt almost as good as the hand stroking her stomach above her bathing suit. All around them, the same old crickets competed with the night music of the peeper frogs, and lanterns burned brightly at the perimeter of the clearing.

  It had been a week since her abduction, and the preliminary hearing was over, with good results. The district attorney had agree
d to drop the accessory charges against Ross in return for his testimony and his compliance with a Gamblers Anonymous program. Ross was at home now—back in his own room—and on the road to recovery.

  Jess’s murmurs were low and husky as he continued to tease her body beneath the water and plant soft kisses along her ear and neck. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I never mailed your letter to that Chicago hospital.”

  Casey snuggled against him, enjoying the feel of crisp, curly chest hair against her back. “And why is that?”

  “Never found the time. Probably never will.” He drew in a long, lazy breath, then let it trickle back out. “It’s going to get pretty busy around here, with a baby on the way.”

  Surprised, she turned to face him in a slosh of black water. With all the excitement, she’d never gone into town to pick up a pregnancy test, so she wasn’t all that sure about her condition. Which was why she hadn’t yet mentioned it to Jess. “Who’s having a baby?”

  “We are,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

  Casey’s heart began to warm. “And why do you think that?”

  “Because I can count. I know when your last period came, and I know how many days afterward we made love without protection.” His teasing tone faded, and Jess’s eyes softened as he scanned her face. “I knew it that night, Casey. I don’t know why I couldn’t say the words you needed to hear then. I only know my fear of remarrying and botching it up was right up there with my fear of losing you. I just didn’t know which thing to fear more.”

  “So you made love to me...hoping...that I’d get pregnant?”

  “Probably not on a conscious level, but maybe subconsciously. That way I’d be forced—”

  Casey’s heart sank and she pressed a quick finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare say so you’d be forced to marry me. I won’t have you that way.”

  Jess moved her finger and smiled. “I was going to say, so I’d be forced to stop being such a fool and make the right decision for myself.” He kissed her softly. “It’s been a week. All the excitement’s over, and our lives are back to some semblance of order. Can I say it now?”