11th Hour Rose (Langston Brothers Series)

by Melissa Lynne Blue

  Lilly hesitated. All she wanted was to curl up with a book, but she did want to discuss the newspaper business with him. It may be an opportunity she could pursue out west. “That would be very nice. I’ll just tell Papa where I’m going.” She turned into the hall and poked her head into her father’s den, quickly relating Marcus’s invitation, then plucked a shawl from the wall hook.

  “Ready?” Marcus asked, placing his beige cap on his head.

  “I am.” She took his proffered arm and stepped through the door. Immediately she shivered. “It is a bit chillier than I expected tonight.”

  “You’ll warm up as soon as we’re walking,” he reassured, placing a hand over her fingers. “Besides we won’t go far, just up a couple of streets.”

  “All right.” She nodded, and let him guide her into the falling night. “So what would you suggest I write about in the newspaper, Mr. Brady?”

  Marcus didn’t readily respond.

  “Mr. Brady?”

  “You haven’t yet worn the blue,” he said suddenly.

  “Excuse me?” Confused, Lilly blinked, not certain what he referred to.

  “The blue,” he stated, as though the color explained all. “I gave you money for a new dress. Did you not order blue? It is my favorite color.”

  “Oh…” Horror chilled Lilly’s blood as the full important of Marcus’s words struck. He was the Charleston madman. Her attacker and would be killer. Fighting for calm, she glanced about the quiet streets, desperately seeking escape. She attempted to drop his arm, but he held firm to her hand. “I recently ordered a blue gown from Mrs. Bridger, but have not picked it up yet.” Her mind spun as Marcus steered her around a corner and into an alley. It would be best not to anger him. “Mr. Brady?” She veered back toward the road. “I think we may have taken a wrong… turn…” her voice trailed off as he stepped directly in front of her, trapping her in the brick corner of an abandoned, war torn building.

  “You look very pretty tonight, Jessica.”

  Panic flared in her mind. For a split second she froze, recalling the last brutal attack in vivid detail. A moment later adrenaline took over. Lilly hauled her foot back, drilling the narrow toe of her boot into the same shin she’d kicked last week—at least she thought it was the same shin.

  “Owe!” He howled, stumbling backward, grabbing his leg just below the knee.

  Lilly didn’t hesitate and took off at a dead run. “Help!” she screamed. “Someone help me, please!” She tore onto the main street, frantically searching for a building or house with lights on. Three houses down, the Miller’s place was lit up like a church at Christmas and piano music poured from within. She made a beeline for it.

  “Get back here you little bitch!” Behind her Marcus’s uneven gate scraped across the gravel.

  “Help!” she cried again, hiking her skirts up in attempt to quicken the pace. She passed one dark house and concentrated on the Miller’s porch, silently willing someone to emerge from the home.

  Marcus’s steps grew louder and his labored breaths pounded in her ears. Lilly’s heart plummeted. She would never make it in time.

  “Ha!” Marcus’s arms clamped around her from behind, tackling her to the ground. Pain exploded through her shoulder and the breath rushed forcefully from her lungs.

  “Bitch!” He grasped her roughly, yanking her from her stomach to her back. He pinned her arms above her head, straddling her hips.

  “Don’t,” she gasped, struggling for breath. “Please!” Brutally he pinned her arms against the harsh ground.

  “That’s enough, Jessica. I warned you. I warn you every time. You’re ruining our moment.” Even in the darkness madness shined clearly in his eyes. How could any of them have missed it?

  “I am not Jessica, Marcus. I’m Lilly.”

  “Not anymore.” He laughed, the sound shrill and disturbing. Marcus raised a balled fist to strike her. “You are just like her. Why did you turn from me?”

  Lilly cringed, turning her face from the impending blow.

  “Get off of her!”

  Eyes flying open, Lilly choked on a sob as David appeared like magic from the darkness. His towering figure stalked toward them, each step fused with deadly intent, a pistol cradled lethally in his palm.

  “Stay back!” Marcus released one of her arms, fumbling inside his jacket and then withdrawing a sidearm of his own. “Stay back or I’ll shoot her.” He jammed the weapon into Lilly’s face.

  She swallowed, staring up at the smooth, silver barrel of Marcus’s gun. Cold trepidation licked along her spine and curled around her limbs. Her mind proved surprisingly clear as she teetered on the brink of death. She only wished Davy was not present to witness it. This would ruin him forever. From the corner of her eye she spied David slowing his steps, horror and dread darkening his expression.

  “You don’t want to shoot her, Brady,” Davy placated, taking another slow step forward. He actually slipped his revolver into his holster and showed Marcus his palms. “That isn’t how this works for you, is it?”

  “Stop right there, Marshal.” Marcus whipped the pistol from Lilly’s face to Davy.

  “Easy,” Davy drawled.

  Lilly held her breath, holding perfectly still. Above her Marcus trembled violently. She dared not flinch or even breathe deeply else the slightest movement spark him to action as his plans unraveled.

  Marcus flicked a panicked gaze around them. Davy slid cautiously forward one more step. Marcus snapped his head back around, training a murderous glare on Davy along with his weapon. “I said stop!”

  Gunfire cracked the night, echoing through the buildings.

  Davy stumbled backward, off kilter and staggering to the left.

  “No!” Lilly shrieked. This can’t be happening! Fear… dread… disbelief… denial… All crashed through her as the miserable realization David had been shot sent her reeling. The worst was that she could do nothing for him. She lay pinned to the ground beneath a madman who would strangle her as her fiancé bled to death in the street.

  Lilly snapped. She swung her free arm up, knocking her fist into Brady’s temple with all the force she could muster.

  He swayed, obviously dazed, and she took full advantage, swinging her forearm into the hand holding his gun. The silver revolver flew from his grasp into the street a few feet away. Rage flared in his dark eyes. He glanced from her to the weapon. Lilly clenched a fist, prepared to strike him again before he attempted to harm her further.

  A large, fast moving shadow grazed her vision and before she realized what was happening, Marcus flew off of her. She blinked, uncertain what had occurred and quickly scrambled to sit upright. To her right, Davy and Marcus rolled across the ground. Lilly’s heart leapt with hope and relief. The men struggled briefly, but Marcus proved no match for Davy.

  Davy glared at the subdued madman, a gleam of madness in the lawman’s gaze as well. “Son of a bitch,” he growled, breathing heavily. “You shot me.” He drove a meaty fist into his jaw.

  Lilly’s father and Deputy Winston appeared with guns drawn. “Davy? What the hell happened?”

  “Everything is fine, Papa.”

  “Lilly?” Her father flew to her side, obviously shaken. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, Papa. Davy arrived just in time.”

  “Where the hell were you, George?” Davy called, still pinning Marcus Brady to the ground.

  “I flagged Joe down on the way over, but you kept going.”

  Lilly could imagine Davy plowing through the streets like a steam engine. The image brought a smile to her face.

  Davy flipped Brady onto his stomach as Deputy Winston swiftly secured his wrists with irons.

  “Would you rather just shoot him, Marshal?”

  Davy stood, favoring his left arm, his stony expression contemplative. “No, let him swing,” he said after a moment. “I want him to sit in jail and suffer while he waits to walk to the gallows.”

  Brady gulped. “I don’t understand,” he see
thed, eyes alight with unconcealed madness. “How did you know?”

  “Your journal,” Davy replied coolly. “I realized the name Bram Cusday was an anagram for Marcus Brady. Or perhaps the other way around. Then I recalled the blood spatter on your shirt the day Whitfield went missing. You didn’t have a nosebleed. You shot him in the back and framed him for your murders.” Davy took a menacing step forward.

  “I had to do something to throw you off. I don’t know how, but you knew it was me from the start.” Marcus chuckled an evil glint in his eyes. “You’re more intelligent than I gave you credit for, Marshal.”

  “Well, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for, Brady. All you had to do was skip town. If you hadn’t gone after Lilly again you would have gotten away with everything. Why did you go back for her? Why didn’t you just leave?”

  “Because she betrayed me.” Brady’s eyes burned with black fire. “They all betray me. I couldn’t leave it undone. She consumed my thoughts. I craved her with every fiber.”

  “You murder the women who betray you? Was Jessica Potter the first?”

  “Jessica was an accident, but she was perfect. The rush. I’ve been searching for that perfect Jessica ever since. Your Lilly…” His gaze flicked to Lilly.

  Lilly quickly withdrew, grasping her father’s arm. Marcus gazed at her as one would freshly carved veal.

  “How did I betray you?” Lilly asked, shocked by his reasoning.

  “I loved you so much,” he rasped, meeting her gaze full on. “I could have given you everything, but you ignored my gifts and chose him!” He speared Davy with a daggered glare.

  Lilly’s mind whirled, Marcus had obviously trumped a fantasy courtship up in his mind. “What of Susie?” she pressed.

  Brady’s eyes flared with rage. “That conniving bitch! She carried on with me and then ran back to her husband. She was the worst.”

  “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Davy growled.

  Brady looked back to him with eyes narrowed, and then shrugged indifferently.

  “Let’s get him out of here,” Davy said. “I’ll wire the U. S. Marshal office in Washington and the next circuit Judge as soon as he’s locked up.”

  “You most certainly will not,” Lilly called, striding toward him. “You’re injured.”

  Davy’s attention shifted to her. Emotion brimmed so brightly in his eyes she her breath hitched.

  “Lilly,” he rasped, extending his good arm and curling her into his side. She buried her face in his chest, breathing deep the familiar, comforting musk that was all him. He trembled beneath her touch.

  “Where did he shoot you?” Lilly asked, pulling her head back.

  Davy released her and glanced down at his left arm. “It’s nothing serious.”

  Lilly stepped to his opposite side to assess the damage herself. Midway down his arm his sleeve was raggedly torn and soaked with blood. The true extent of the injury was impossible to gauge with fabric remnants in the way and due to the darkness. “You are not going anywhere until a doctor tends that arm,” she ordered. “Papa and Joe can handle Mr. Brady and any urgent legal matters.” She bent and lifted her skirt, ripping a length of petticoat to use as a bandage. “I am taking you straight to your brother.”

  “She’s right, Davy,” George said. “That arm looks bad.”

  For once Davy did not argue. He merely nodded as she wrapped the length of fabric around his arm to stem the bleeding.

  “I don’t want Lilly to stay by herself tonight,” her father said. “Do you suppose your brother and his wife would allow her to stay with them again?”

  “Absolutely,” Davy replied, wrapping his right arm around her. “She is family after all.”

  Lilly shivered and snuggled into Davy’s side, watching in surreal disbelief as her father and the deputy led her assailant away. “Is this really over?”

  “That it is, love.” He dropped a kiss to her brow and soothingly stroked her upper arm. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  Davy wended quickly through the streets to his brother’s townhouse. Ignoring the biting pain in his left arm, he held to Lilly as though his very life depended on it. Perhaps it did. He’d been within a second—mere breaths—of losing her tonight. Again.

  He reached Craig’s home and did not bother knocking on the door. Thoroughly spent, he tried the brass handle and shoved the unlocked door inward, tugging Lilly over the threshold. “Craig!” he called.

  The tramp of tiny footsteps echoed through the main hall. “Uncle Davy!” an excited voice called. A moment later his nephew, Christopher, sprinted around the corner all blond hair and mischievous blue eyes. Despite being the spitting image of Craig, the boy reminded David of Curtis to no end. It was the twinkle in his eye… always on the lookout for trouble.

  “Chris.” Davy forced a smile for the boy’s benefit, keeping his mangled arm from Christopher’s view. “Is your Papa at home?”

  “Nope, but Mama is.”

  “Would you fetch her for me?”

  Christopher dashed back across the foyer, paused in the tall, arched doorway and hollered, “Mama!”

  A moment later Marissa appeared with her infant daughter, Claire, propped on one arm. “Christopher, we have talked about this shouting. What is the polite way to ask for me?”

  The boy blinked innocently. “Uncle Davy is here.”

  “Thank you, I see that.” Marissa smiled down at her son and finally shifted her gaze to Davy and Lilly. Instantly her expression faltered. “What’s happened?” She strode forward immediately.

  “Davy’s been shot,” Lilly supplied quickly. “In the arm.”

  Marissa’s dark eyes widened, and she paled considerably.

  “Nothing serious, but it hurts like hell,” he grumbled, hoping to reassure her.

  “Go to the kitchen while I’ll fetch supplies.” Marissa hurried from the foyer, taking both children along with her.

  Lilly slipped her fingers along Davy’s palm, twining her fingers through his. He released a long breath, relishing the sweet friction, and finally starting to let his guard down. He gave her hand a little squeeze as she gently tugged him in the direction of the sitting room. Hand in hand they entered Craig and Marissa’s oversized kitchen.

  Davy glanced at the wooden countertops, table, benches and sat on one of the straight-backed chairs.

  Lilly came to stand in front of him.

  He glanced up, opening his mouth to crack a joke, anything to lighten the mood, but stopped short. She gazed down at him with heavy eyes, her face pale, expression stricken. She cupped his face with trembling hands, and he’d swear a veil of tears glassed the surface of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Davy.”

  “Lilly,” he murmured, curling the fingers of his unaffected hand around hers and pressing a kiss to her palm. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I-I can’t help but feel this is all my fault.” Her eyes, so resilient and steadfast held none of the light he so loved and craved. “Tonight you could have been killed because of me.”

  “Not because of you, Lilly. For you. I would die for you, love. Gladly.”

  “All right, I should have everything here.” Marissa breezed into the room, interrupting Lilly’s words. “Christopher, go play with your blocks while I tend to Uncle Davy.” His sister-in-law carried Claire in one arm and balanced a basket laden with medical supplies in the other. “I’m sorry Craig isn’t home. Babies often decide to come at the most inconvenient times.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Davy assured her. He knew Marissa had more than adequate skill with suturing and superficial bullet wounds.

  Lilly quickly stepped forward to take Claire from Marissa. A warm smile instantly eclipsed the sadness marring Lilly’s lovely face, and Davy’s heart melted. Lilly naturally cradled the six-month-old in her arms, and soon the baby giggled and cooed, grabbing at Lilly’s nose with her chubby fingers.

  Without preamble, Marissa pulled out a pair of scissors an
d cut Davy’s shirtsleeve off at the shoulder. She then carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage Lilly had applied and peeled the tattered shirtsleeve from the tender wound.

  Davy inhaled sharply as she gently probed the surrounding area with her fingers.

  “It appears the bullet passed through. I’d say you were very lucky. Another inch and it would have shattered the bone.” Marissa proceeded to cleanse the wound and then prepared a curved suture needle. “What happened tonight?”

  Davy glanced up to Lilly pacing back and forth with the baby. Her expression sobered instantly. She drew a long breath and quickly filled Marissa in on the night’s events.

  “How awful! Mr. Brady must have come right after Cadence and I left.” Marissa tied off the sutures and dressed Davy’s arm.

  Davy tested the arm. Sore, and the sutures felt tight, but none the worse wear. “I’d wager he was watching, waiting for you to leave so he could call on Lilly.”

  Marissa shook her head, replacing the medical supplies in her basket.

  “Marissa, I’m home!” Craig’s voice rumbled from the front of the house.

  “Papa!” Christopher leapt to his feet and ran to the parlor door, still carrying one of his blocks. “Uncle Davy is here.”

  “Is he now?” A moment later Craig appeared and then startled, brow raised in question. He ruffled Christopher’s hair and nudged the boy back toward his toys. Craig’s serious gaze met with Davy’s. “What the hell happened?”

  Exhausted and ready to secure a rare moment alone with Lilly, Davy filled his brother in on the most recent developments. He also secured permission for Lilly to stay the night, and then speared Craig with a get out glower.

  Craig failed to take the hint. “What an awful night,” he said. “Would you care for a drink?”

  “No.”

  “Darling.” Marissa proved far more astute and stood, resting a hand on her husband’s arm. “I think we should leave these two alone to decompress.” She lifted Claire from Lilly’s arms. “Davy, feel free to stay the night as well.”