In this very room, she’d discovered Ralph Brandon was Ray Bodine’s alias. He hadn’t arrived at the resort to claim the reservation he’d made for the farmhouse. She hadn’t expected him to, not after what Ty and her father had said, but she was concerned. If Bodine recognized Ty, he’d be killed for sure. Mobsters, especially the cutthroat ones like Bodine, had communication lines that burned hotter and faster than phone lines, and Ty would be the subject, put on a list far and wide.
She’d told her father it was imperative no one learn Ty’s real identity, but he still hadn’t sent anyone after Ty, insisting that would implicate him and the resort. Fury had never lived so strongly in her, or remained there so long.
Her door opened and she turned from the window, pinching her lips as her father walked in. “Have you seen this?” he asked sternly.
Silently, for she’d barely said two words to him in days, she took the envelope and opened the flap to reveal a stack of bills. She handed it back and shook her head.
“It’s from Brock,” her father barked.
She had no emotion to waste on this. “He paid off his family’s debt. You should be glad.”
“He should have been taking care of Ginger rather than making money,” her father bellowed.
“Ginger’s fine. Palooka George told you that when he arrived.” Gesturing at the envelope, she added, “Looks to me like Brock’s done both.” An inkling of jealousy stirred inside her, at what Ginger had managed to find. Norma Rose paused, realizing she, too, had found it. “I’m happy for them. Very happy, and you should be, too. You should be proud your daughter knew a good man when she saw one.” Moving toward the door, she said, “Excuse me, I have work to do.”
“If I’d sent anyone after Ty, it may have gotten him killed.”
Her fingers, curled around the doorknob, squeezed harder and she swallowed. “Or saved his life.”
“He’ll survive, Rosie. He’s the best there is.”
“I know that, and I hope you’re right,” she said, opening the door. “Because I won’t survive if he doesn’t.”
“Rosie—”
She left the building.
Taking the trail, she walked to the Northlander, the cabin she’d refused to rent even when her sisters claimed several guests wanted cabins rather than rooms upstairs. People could sleep on the floor for all she cared.
In the cabin, she sat down at the table. There was nothing here of Ty’s, no mementoes or signs that he’d ever been here, but she pretended. So far as to believe she could smell his aftershave. Dropping her head on the table, she closed her eyes. There were no tears left inside her, just emptiness. She tried to fill the gap with fantasies of how things might have been, but that was no longer working. Not after five days.
Emptying her lungs, she lifted her head and her line of vision caught something in the window. A reflection of herself, ghostly and thin, like she was there but wasn’t.
Frowning, she looked harder at the faint image. After all she’d been through, this was how she ended up? A weak and fading image of who she’d been. Her frown increased. When had that happened? Why? A flutter happened deep inside her, as if an almost forgotten part of her wanted to return.
Ty hadn’t let her down, yet; in a sense, she was letting him down. Believing the worst, when in fact, he was the best there was. She could love him with all her heart, but that didn’t mean she had to lose herself. Who she was.
Norma Rose pushed away from the table. He’d promised he’d be back, and she’d promised to be here. Her. Norma Rose Nightingale. And the Norma Rose Nightingale Ty knew would never have sat around moping until his return.
Her resolve stuck. She rose, marched to the door and pulled it open.
* * *
Ty had imagined this sight ever since driving away from the resort with those two thugs in the trunk. Dressed in black, as usual, with her hair slicked in waves and gloves on her hands, she was the vision of every waking moment and dream for the past five days. There was surprise in those magnificent blue eyes, but also determination, just as he’d expected. Norma Rose would never have sat around, sulking over his absence. Just one more thing he loved about her.
She lifted her chin a bit higher, even as her hands curled at her sides. The desire to kiss her was greater than ever, but he liked when she made the first move. Whether she admitted it or not, she liked to be in control as much as he did.
“I was just seeing to the cabin,” she said. “Making sure it was presentable for the next guests.”
“And is it?” he asked.
“I expect so.” She turned then and her shoulders indicated the deep breath she took. “Have you ever heard of a phone?”
“A phone?”
“Yes, it’s a little black device that can let people know you’re okay. So they don’t have to worry.”
Smiling, he stepped into the cabin and closed the door. “I do believe I have, but I couldn’t call you.”
“Why not?”
There had been a dozen reasons, including how he’d refused to waste the time calling her when it could be spent driving back. None of that mattered any longer. “One of us had to make a choice, Norma Rose,” he said, “and I didn’t want that to be you.”
She turned around. “A choice?”
He nodded.
Her understanding came swiftly and she lifted a perfectly shaped brow.
“I’d already made a choice, Ty.”
Neither of them moved, as they stood there, facing each other like some kind of Old West gunfight. His heart beat the seconds away as he forced his feet and mouth to remain still. Until a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
She took a step forward and pressed her hands to his chest. “I chose you, Ty. Even before I was kidnapped. I’ll leave the resort, become a federal agent’s doxy and never look back. Never regret my decision.”
He grasped her face and kissed her, long and hard, before he whispered, “I’m no longer a federal agent.”
She hissed in a breath. “No. Did they see you, discover your identity?”
“No, no one knows I was behind it, but Bodine was arrested,” Ty said, rubbing the softness of her cheeks. “The one you knocked out with the shovel was his son. He’d only been a kid, fifteen or so when Bodine faked his death, and over the years became his father’s new righthand man. Yet, when push came to shove, he saved his own hide and gave away his father’s hideout in Wisconsin.”
“If they don’t know who you are, why—”
“Because you told me Prohibition won’t last much longer. I agree with you. Which means I’ll soon be out of a job. I might as well switch professions now.” He grinned. “How would you feel about being married to a lawyer?”
“A lawyer?”
He nodded. “I just have to take my bar exam. Or I could become a police chief now that Williams is in jail.” Bumping his nose against hers, he added, “Or we could just live off my bank account for a few years. I’ve collected a lot of bounty money over the years.”
She grinned, but shook her head. “I never said I’d marry you.”
Ty took her hands to roll her gloves over her wrists and off her fingers. “Only because I haven’t asked.”
As she started unbuttoning his shirt, she stepped out of her shoes. “Are you going to?”
Walking backward, toward the bedroom, and pulling her forward by her waist, he asked, “Do you want me to?”
She parted his shirt and ran her hands over his chest. “I’ll tell you in an hour or so.”
He swept her into his arms and spun around, carrying her into the bedroom. “I thought you might say that.” After a long, solid, and overly hot kiss, he lowered her onto the bed and kissed her once more before stepping back. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
* * *
Norma Rose laughed. As much as she loved him, she also loved the fact she’d met her match. She held one leg up in the air and unhooked her stocking from the garter on her thigh. “Don’t make me find a shovel, Ty
.”
He let out an exaggerated groan. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Probably not.” Tossing the stocking at him, she lifted her other leg. “I, too, like to be in control once in a while”
He laughed. “You don’t say?”
She unhooked that stocking from its garter and started to roll it down. “Surely you can find another way to convince me to say yes.”
Stepping forward, he snagged the toe of her stocking, pulled it off and tossed it on the floor with the other. “Do you need convincing?”
She hooked him by the waistband of his pants, pulling him closer. “You tell me.”
He told her all right, and convinced her, several times.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE CAPTAIN’S FROZEN DREAM by Georgie Lee.
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The Captain’s Frozen Dream
by Georgie Lee
Chapter One
England—October 1st, 1820
‘No, let go of me.’ A woman’s strained voice carried over the rolling hills of the West Sussex countryside.
Captain Conrad Essington kicked his horse into a canter, and as he crested the rise in the road he spied a gig beside it, the horse grazing lazily on the tall grass. Up a gentle hill, just beyond the shade of a wide ash tree, a man and woman stood together. The setting sun blazed behind them, turning them into little more than silhouettes. The woman tried to walk away, but the man grabbed her by the arm.
‘Listen to me,’ he demanded.
She twisted out of his grip. ‘No, I won’t hear it.’
‘Can I be of some assistance?’ Conrad slid off the hired horse and flicked the reins over the animal’s head.
The man let go of the woman and offered a dismissive wave. ‘I assure you, we’re fine.’
Conrad continued up the hill, not so easily dissuaded.
‘And you, my lady?’ The brown grass crunched beneath his boots, releasing the sharp aroma of warm, dry earth. Conrad pulled in a lungful of air. Even with the nip of autumn in the air, after a year and a half in the stinging cold of the Arctic, this was paradise. ‘Are you well?’
The glare of the sun behind her blotted out all but the roundness of her hips beneath a dark-green dress and the light ringlets of blonde hair framing her face.
‘No, not at all.’ The familiar melody of her voice more than the waver in her words slowed Conrad’s steps. It drew from somewhere deep inside him a happiness and comfort he hadn’t experienced since he’d stepped aboard HMS Gorgon and set sail in search of the Northwest Passage.
She started cautiously down the hill towards him, entering the shade of the tree. The shadow freed her from the overpowering sun and brought her cheeks and fine nose into focus. Her brilliant blue eyes stopped Conrad and he stood in awe as she approached.
‘Katie?’ In the dark hours of the long winter aboard HMS Gorgon, when the sun had lain hidden beneath the horizon, months away from shining on him and his crew, he’d dreamed of this moment, of seeing her again. It was all he’d thought about during the long walk across the ice and snow, and in the ship coming home. It was the one thought which had guided him since disembarking in Portsmouth this morning. He’d sent his lieutenant, Henry Sefton, ahead to London with Conrad’s official report so Conrad could set off in search of her. He hadn’t expected to stumble upon her on the London road, or for her to be more beautiful than he remembered.
‘Conrad?’ Uncertainty as much as the fading daylight danced in her eyes, making them glow like the low polar sun on the ice. ‘Is it really you?’
‘It is.’ He raised his hand to touch her cheek, then hesitated, afraid if he caressed her she might disappear like one of the many mirages he’d seen hovering above the Arctic sea. Returning to England and Katie had seemed like an impossible dream when he’d imagined it from the cold hold of a ship buried beneath darkness and ice. Even a mile back, when the tang of chalk from the Downs had at last replaced the mouldy stench of bilge water clinging to him, his weary mind still couldn’t believe his trials were over.
Now, with the curve of Katie’s small chin so close to his palm, her thick eyelashes fluttering with each disbelieving blink, the grip of the nightmare began at last to ease.
He was home.
Conrad brushed her face with his fingertips and the tender warmth of her skin made him shiver for the first time in more than a year from something other than cold. Despite the shadows beneath her eyes, the faint blush spreading under the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose could hold his gaze for hours. He shifted closer, craving the sweet taste of her lips parted with surprise. He’d been too long without her and the comfort of her embrace.
Conrad leaned down, ready to claim her mouth, but Katie didn’t rise to meet him. His hand stiffened against her cheek while he waited for the adoring woman he’d left over a year and half ago to embrace him, but she didn’t. In her eyes wasn’t the love she’d seen him off with in Greenwich, nor was it simply disbelief. It was a lack of faith, the same blistering kind he’d seen in Aaron’s eyes before he’d walked out into the snow to die. Conrad’s stomach clenched as hard as it had the night he and Henry had watched the sea ice harden around Gorgon.
‘Miss Vickers, do you know this man?’ the gentleman asked, his intrusion as much a shock as the silent gorge opening between Katie and Conrad.
‘I do.’ Katie stepped back out of Conrad’s grasp, her blush deepening with something Conrad sensed had nothing to do with the strength of the afternoon sun. ‘Captain Essington, allow me to introduce Mr Prevett.’
Conrad straightened and dropped his hand. His fingers, stiff after months of near frostbite, tightened into a fist at his side. He stared at Katie, as unsure of his position now as when Gorgon had sailed north beyond the known regions of the map. He searched Katie’s face for some silent explanation, reluctant to hear the one he expected her to provide.
‘Captain Essington is my intended,’ Katie clarified.
Conrad’s hand eased. Whatever had shifted between them, at least this still remained.
Mr Prevett’s gaze jerked back and forth between Conrad and Katie before an awkward smile broke across his thin lips. ‘Captain Essington? Why, I can’t believe it, all of England thought you were dead.’
‘So did I, more than once.’ Conrad laced his fingers behind his back as though on deck and examined the man as he would an unruly junior officer. ‘Tell me, Mr Prevett, what are you doing out here, alone with Miss Vickers? Have you no care for her reputation?’
‘Her reputation?’ Mr Prevett snorted before a fierce glare from Conrad sobered him. ‘We were searching for fossils. I’ve had a great deal of luck finding them in this vicinity.’
Mr Prevett, who could be no more than thirty, appeared too finely turned out for a man hunting only bones. ‘It seemed as though you were having a more heated discussion than one about fossils.’
‘We were having a disagreement regarding a certain line of research he wished me to pursue,’ Katie hurriedly explained. ‘I told him he should abandon it, as I have my own ideas about how best to proceed with my research.’
‘Speaking of which, I must be getting home. My wife is expecting me.’ Mr Prevett shuffled past Conrad, pausing beside him, but not too close.
‘Congratulations on your return, Captain Essington. I look forward to reading your papers when you publish them.’
‘I’ll be sure to send you a copy.’ Conrad replied, the demands of publishing the details of his expedition paling beneath the desire to be alone with Katie.
Mr Prevett hurried away down the rise and soon the grinding of wheels over dirt joined the fading plod of the horse as it drew the gig out of sight.
Katie didn’t watch Mr Prevett leave, but remained focused on Conrad, sliding her opal ring on and off her finger, the movement jerky and fumbling.
‘Did you really forget me so soon?’ Conrad accused, suspicion hard in his voice.
‘So soon?’ Katie shoved the ring back on her finger. ‘You promised me you’d only be gone for six months, for as long as the Arctic summer lasted, but it’s been over a year since you were supposed to return. I thought you were dead, everyone did. How dare you come back now and accuse me of anything?’
Conrad trimmed his suspicions like a sail in a storm. A calm head would win the day, just as it had seen him and his men through the winter. ‘I only want to know what was happening between the two of you.’
‘What you saw was the result of your having been gone, of you chasing your ambitions and leaving the rest of us to deal with the consequences.’
* * *
Katie rushed past Conrad and down the hill, as livid as the day his uncle, the Marquis of Helton, had turned from ruining Katie’s reputation to destroying her father’s. For the better part of the last year, she’d borne the malicious whispers of London and the snubs of the Naturalist Society alone. Now Conrad was here, tossing suspicions on the heap his uncle had worked so hard to build.
‘Katie, wait,’ Conrad called after her, his quick footsteps muffled by the soft earth.
She stopped to face him, further accusations silenced by the sight of him moving through the grass. He isn’t dead.
The Bootlegger's Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 24
