Memory Whispers

by Angel Smits

  In an instant, he lay beside her, his clothes tossed carelessly to the floor. Her fingers moved over him, wanting—needing—to memorize every hard, muscular curve and plane.

  “Please, Cord. Now.” She gulped out the words. “I need you inside me.”

  “Hush,” he whispered. He kissed her then, gentling her, slowing the pace. “Savor it,” he instructed.

  Surely, he’d gone mad. He’d driven her to the edge, only to pull up short. Oh, but the things he was doing to her now. The heated trail his tongue forged along her skin, down her neck and over the hill of her breast. He hesitated at the peak, tasting her until she cried out in frustration. He laughed, then continued lower.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, he nibbled his way down her abdomen, reaching the curve of her hip after what seemed an eternity. The heat only intensified as he moved lower, tasting places he’d only touched before.

  He kissed every inch of her he could find. The tender skin of her inner thighs. The warm, wet opening that ached to be filled with him. His tongue did magical things, creating an ache she thought might never ease.

  “Cord,” she cried his name as she shattered. Called out to him, begging him to join her. He did. Pushing her farther over the edge as he drove inside her.

  “Ah, babe,” he whispered as he held her. “Faith.” He prayed her name and threw back his head, letting go.

  She marveled at his intensity, at the depth of which she felt him in her body and in her soul.

  Time stopped and then slowly returned to life. As they lay there, listening to each other’s even breathing, darkness cocooned them. Night took hold of the city, driving away everything but the feel of his arms around her. Faith smiled, enjoying him. The warmth that seeped from his skin to hers. The way his breath moved like a subtle caress over her skin. She could stay like this forever.

  The world intruded slowly. A door slammed down the hallway. A car horn echoed from the street below. The windowpane rattled . . .

  No! Faith turned her head to look out the window. Clouds scudded across the sky, blotting out the stars, hiding the moon and its friendly light. No, please . . . Her arms tightened around Cord, and he stirred at the sudden pressure.

  “What?” he mumbled, snuggling against her, his whiskers rough against her skin.

  “Cord, a storm.” Her voice cracked at the same instant a flash of lightning lit the room. Thunder rumbled so loud and close on its tail they barely blinked between.

  A roar ripped through the room. The windowpane shattered. Faith screamed. Down the street something exploded.

  Cord threw back the covers and ran to the window. She ran after him. A golden glow painted the planes of his face orange.

  Flames shot from the roof of The Double Barrel. He stared in disbelief. Then he turned to her, his eyes filled with pain.

  “Damn it.” He grabbed his clothes from the end of the bed. He pulled up the zipper of his jeans as the next flash came, outlining the beautiful lines of his body with its white light. “This is impossible. Why don’t I get a break?”

  Not waiting for her reply, he grabbed the rest of his things, turned and strode from the room. The door smacked the wall before bouncing closed. Faith doubled over as the pain hit her full in the heart. She’d seen the accusation and the distance in his eyes. And the blame. He’d blame her for this just as he’d always blamed her for everything . . .

  Painful images of his anger, of him storming away, assaulted her, images she knew weren’t from this life. Tears burned her eyes and all the sweet love seeped out of the room.

  FLAMES LICKED THE sky, sending sparks up into the night. A fire engine’s wail broke through the crackling roar as it rumbled down the street. Cord ran along the sidewalk, barefoot, bare-chested, and bare-souled.

  How could he have been so stupid? The vision of Faith all enticing and beautiful in that white robe tore through him. He forced down the pain in his chest. The pity party came later. Now he had to save his life. He met the fire crew as they piled out of the truck.

  He knew every one of these men. They came in to gamble, did the necessary inspections, and were his friends. Now all emotion had been erased from their faces. They had a job to do. They barked orders, shoving him aside as they worked.

  Hoses were hooked to the hydrant, and a great wall of water poured into the shattered front window.

  “Where’s Johnny?” Cord pulled on his shirt and shoes, and then he wove through the growing crowd. “Doug?” he called to one of his bartenders.

  “Boss. I . . . I don’t know what happened.”

  “Is everyone out?” Cord looked through the crowd, counting heads. Everyone he knew to be on duty tonight was accounted for except Johnny. “Where’s Johnny?”

  “He was back in the office—” one of the waitresses called.

  Cord headed to the other side of the building. Darkness shrouded everything, but he found his way to the window. Damn, he’d just replaced these.

  Johnny was in the office, stuffing papers into boxes. Idiot. Cord slammed his fist against the glass, and Johnny looked up. He waved and grabbed the box. He headed toward the door. Cord banged on the window again and shook his head. If Johnny opened that door he’d be stepping into an inferno.

  Johnny touched the door and seemed to feel the heat. He backed up and headed to the window.

  “Get the hell out there,” Cord yelled as he shoved the window open. He half dragged Johnny through it. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to save the paperwork.”

  Cord wanted to ring his neck. “It’ll keep. Come on.”

  They rounded the building. The crowd had grown, and the fire crew was having as much trouble controlling the crowd as the flames.

  “You take that side, I’ll head to the other. I don’t want anyone hurt, do you hear me?” Cord met Johnny’s stare.

  Between the two of them, they got the crowd back enough for the fire crew to do their job. Smoke billowed into the night, blackening everything in its path. Cord coughed, wondering if he’d ever feel clean again.

  Time crept by, tearing at Cord’s soul. He tried not to stare, to feel the loss. When darkness fell, he fought the pain. The hiss of the flames faded. The fire crew stepped back, white-toothed grins breaking through the soot on their faces. Cord couldn’t muster even a faint smile as he stared at the blackened shell of his life.

  He blinked repeatedly to remove the soot from his eyes as he stared at the building. He had no idea what they’d see in the light of day. His stomach clinched at the thought. Would everything be gone?

  The crowd thinned and finally moved away. Johnny sent the staff home. Cord didn’t say a word. He couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring.

  “Hey,” Johnny walked up to him. “Cord?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I sent the crew home. Told them we’d have a meeting tomorrow. Everyone’s okay.”

  Relieved, Cord let himself relax a little. “Thanks.”

  The night grew quiet except for the sounds of the fire crew packing up and beginning their investigation. The distant noise from the other casinos mocked the silence of the Double Barrel.

  Finally, Cord turned away, unable to watch any longer. A lone figure stood across the street. Her hair hung in mussed ringlets around her face. Even in the dim light she looked as if she’d just crawled from his bed, which she had.

  He stood there for a long minute, watching her, seeing her as she had been in his arms just a short while ago. And then in the image in the window, falling down the mountainside.

  Someone was trying to tell him something, and he was finally getting the message.

  He strode across the street, unable to control the pain, the fear and anger that ate at him. “Get out. Get the hell out of my life and this town.”

  “Cord—”

 
“Get out,” he repeated, nearly pleading as well as ordering her. “Nothing like this happened before you came here.” He knew he was hurting her, knew it from the tears that glistened in her eyes. If he had to hurt her to save her, he would. He also knew that if she looked close enough that same agony would reflect back at her. “I don’t need you here anymore.” Even as he said it, he knew he lied. He’d give everything he had for her—even his own life.

  But he couldn’t risk hers.

  “Just go home.” Home where she was safe from the harm that seemed to await them here.

  Faith stood there in the cold night, her arms wrapped around her middle. He walked away, his back ramrod straight.

  She’d seen that look in his eyes before. That same look of desperation and pain. In the dream after he’d carried Timmy’s body up from the mineshaft and knelt beside her in the mud.

  And on that first night under the lamppost.

  Now she could put a name to that look. Loss. Loss of everything. Something she suddenly realized he knew entirely too well, because he’d lost everything tonight. His casino, his life, his dream, but she’d lost something, too.

  She’d lost her heart to a man who didn’t want it.

  Sixteen

  CORD ROAMED THE streets in a pattern that seemed distantly familiar, as if he’d done this before. He listened for the quiet of the night that hid behind the noise of the other casinos. The fire crew would be working for several hours on their investigation. Even then, would his room in back be habitable? Was there anything left of it?

  Desperation settled into his chest, a desperation like he’d never known before. He’d fought so hard for his casino, and it was gone in just a few minutes.

  The thought of taking a drink crossed his mind. Had this been how his father had felt all those years? All those lonely years? Cord shivered. He didn’t drink, though he knew how it felt to be drunk. Even now he could remember the bliss of oblivion, the escape that came from the bottom of a bottle. He’d been underage when he took his first drink. His old man had passed out on the couch, a half-empty bottle tipped over on the floor. Cord remembered picking it up. It tasted nasty, but he’d kept drinking. There had to be a reason why his father kept drinking. All too quickly he found it. He conjured up those memories now. He recalled how it felt to escape, and yet never quite being able to. Reality lurked on the edges, never going away, just keeping its distance.

  Cord stopped walking. Surprised, he looked up. How had he gotten here? The museum looked almost forlorn in the darkness.

  He sat down on the old lawn chair that Opal had left on the front step. He didn’t have any place else to stay. The haunting image of Faith’s eyes as she’d stared at him after the fire came back. She had a hotel room . . . with a comfortable bed . . .

  No, that was not an option, though his body ached for the soft distraction of her bed, of her arms . . . of her body.

  “Hell.” He propped his feet up on the rail. Not too bad. He doubted he’d sleep much tonight, or that Opal would mind.

  “That doesn’t look very comfortable.” Opal’s voice startled him. He laughed as he put his feet down on the floor.

  “It’ll do.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She climbed the steps and inserted the key in the door. With a flick of a switch, she turned on the foyer light. He noticed that her eyelids drooped and her shoulders sagged, as if the long day and night weighed on her as well.

  “Quite the excitement tonight. I’m so sorry about the fire.” She led the way inside.

  “Yeah. Me, too. Thanks,” Cord sighed, shrugging his tired shoulders. “It’ll be a lot of work to get things back into shape.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I’ve got a room in back of the casino. I’ll stay there after the investigation is done.”

  “I’m sure it’s a mess.” Opal put her purse in the closet. She turned and stared up at him. “You surely can’t get it ready tonight. There’s a spare room in the back here, if you’d like to use it.”

  “That’s generous of you, but . . . ”

  “I won’t have any arguments, my boy. I know there’s not a hotel room to be had in town. I close up by eight each night.” She headed down the narrow hallway and he followed.

  Opal led him to a small room underneath the back staircase. “This room was used by the man who worked as the bouncer in the old days. It was used for storage for a while. We’ve never had the money for its restoration.”

  The sparse room held an iron bedstead with serviceable bedding. “Thank you, Opal. I’ll probably only be here tonight.”

  “Oh, whatever you need. It’ll be nice to have some company around here.”

  “You live here?” He had thought she lived someplace else.

  “Oh, yes. Have for years. The maid’s rooms were converted into a lovely little apartment when the previous owner was too ill to use the rest of the house.”

  The previous owner . . . too ill. His mind recalled the information Faith had received from Tim Gibson. That previous owner would have been Maria. His heart sank at the thought of her growing old here, alone. Guilt over Rafe’s actions nagged at him.

  “Can I get you some supper?” Opal’s eyes lit up.

  “No. I’m not very hungry.” He saw the crestfallen expression cross her face. “Thanks for the offer.”

  “You’re welcome. Well, I’ll be turning in for the night. I’m afraid I get up at the crack of dawn. Comes from spending so much of my life on a farm. Goodnight, Cord.” Opal smiled and turned away.

  “Opal?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you ever meet her, the former owner?” Cord found the words emerging from his lips before he could stop them.

  “No, I’m afraid not. My husband and I moved here a couple years after Mr. Gibson took over the house.”

  “Oh, I see.” Why was the disappointment so strong? Did he really want to know how lonely Maria’s life had been?

  She’d survived, and he knew how she’d made her living. He’d always thought he’d feel disgust or at best indifference to a woman who lived that way. Instead he found a measure of respect. Survival for a woman in that era, so shattered by her life’s events, was an accomplishment.

  Opal’s retreating footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. “Thanks, Opal.”

  A faint blush tinged her wrinkled cheeks. Cord realized Opal had probably been quite beautiful as a young woman.

  “It’s nice to have someone to care for again. Since my husband died, it’s been rather lonely. You’re welcome to help yourself to the shower. It’s right through there.” She pointed to a door a few feet away. Still smiling, Opal turned and headed down the hall toward her apartment.

  Cord listened until her footsteps disappeared behind the doors of her rooms. Then he turned into the bathroom, thoroughly enjoying the shower. He didn’t have much choice of clothes, but at least he was clean.

  A small lamp sat on a table beside the bed in the room. Moonlight filtered through the thin white curtains. The full, white orb lit the room nearly as well as if the lamp remained on.

  Despite his best efforts, his thoughts turned to Faith. His anger and disappointment kept most of her images and his desire for her at bay. With nothing to distract him now, she came back with a vengeance.

  The memory of her eyes filled with pain and fear floated in his memory. He had to chase her away. It was the only solution. He hadn’t given her a chance to speak, and he doubted the chance would arise again.

  How could he have given in to his lust so easily? His body answered by reacting to the image of her against him. He felt the heat and hardness, and he groaned and rolled over. He banished her from his thoughts . . . but not his dreams.

  RAFE WAS DRUNK. He’d stumbled around the building searching for Maria for nearly half an hour.
It seemed an eternity. With the heavy rain, it was a slow night and few people were about. The bouncer was getting used to throwing him out these days, but tonight Rafe lifted the gun. Even big Cyrus backed off. The house quickly emptied of the few guests and most of the girls.

  Whiskey and remorse sent him over the edge. Wandering through the upstairs hallway, calling her name, he went from room to room. Each time he opened a door, he found only emptiness. Finally, he came to the observation room and went in.

  He wanted his wife. He wanted his son. She was dead now, that girl who had killed Timmy. God, how could she have done it? As Delta had looked in fear at the gun, he still hadn’t understood why she’d done it. She blubbered about how Timmy was hers, how she’d get him back. Rafe wasn’t sure about anything Delta said. It didn’t make sense. None of it did, and did it really matter? She was dead now. He tried to tell his soul not to hold so much glee.

  His anger escalated as she described how she took Timmy to the old mine to hide him. He smelled burned powder and watched her stumble and fall back across the bed. Bright crimson blood spread quickly over the front of her dress. Her eyes stared in silent shock.

  He didn’t stop to think.

  He ran.

  Ran until he could run no more. Nearly five miles outside the city limits, he stumbled. Landing on his knees, he rolled to stare at the slowly emerging stars. Stars that blurred through the dampness in his eyes.

  It took two days of alcohol to numb the horror. All he wanted was his Maria back. To hold her. To love her again.

  But he couldn’t find her. If she was here, she was hiding from him. Her steamer trunk sat in this room. He lifted the lid, wanting some part of her to take with him. Dear God, she’d shut their entire life up in this little box. He frantically took out familiar items, until he was throwing them around the room. Finally, his fingers encountered the softness of the toy bear. The plush animal had been Timmy’s. Stroking the fur, tears burned Rafe’s eyes.

  “Papa?”

  Rafe turned, shocked by the familiar little voice. He was losing his mind. He blinked several times when he saw the beloved figure of his son, wearing the same nightshirt he’d died in. The one Maria had made him for Christmas.