A Shot in the Dark: A Trick of the Light Duet, Book Two

by Cain, Addison

  All the wind went out of her sails. “Oh, Matthew, I’m not gonna die on you.”

  One hand came to her face, Matthew ignoring the swelling in his knuckles so he might wipe blood splatter off her cheek. “This ain’t the life I want for you. It ain’t the life you want for yourself. It’s time for you to set it aside and let the menfolk do their duty.”

  Pressing against the heat of his palm, Charlie closed her eyes, exasperated that it had to be spelled out. “You can’t just expect me to sit back, to wait and wonder. Not when I can find out what’s going on.”

  “I’m going to handle the man that hurt what’s mine.” His voice came considerably softer. “I am, not you.” He swallowed, leaning so close their noses almost touched. “Leave it be, Charlotte.”

  The thought of him out there alone made her blood run cold. She was begging him, pleading, “I know these men. Let me stand at your side… Together we—”

  He put his forehead to hers, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was still angry, no doubt about that, but she had some magic that cooled the temper. “You can stand by my side in every other way… but not in this. Darlin’, I love you too much to allow it.”

  It was the one thing he might say that would curb her. Charlie went quiet. Frowning, she pushed off from the truck, shoving him away to kick up a cloud of dirt and scream out her frustration. When the shriek was over, unwilling to give her acquiescence vocally, Charlie panted and offered one sharp nod. It didn’t matter, Matthew knew what she meant. He could see the monumental struggle it was for her to step away from the hunt.

  The chase was over anyway. Nathaniel had returned, the crumpled body of Roy Beachum dumped at his feet.

  Bitter, Charlie crossed the distance and gave Roy one hard kick in the ribs. “That’s for cutting my arm, prick!”

  Ignoring the sputtering man whining at her feet, sapphire eyes darted up to look dead on at Matthew. “If something happens to you, there will be no mercy for the men I go after. You understand me?”

  Matthew nodded, accepting her surrender, one with caveats should he fail—the look in her eyes made that perfectly clear.

  Chapter 14

  With the back of Eli’s head nothing but mush, Charlie was put in charge of getting him home. Matthew got her ass on the next train leaving Charleston for Monroe, handing his woman all the cash he’d collected from the last transaction with Radcliffe—as if to show he trusted her, saying silently not to make the same mistake twice.

  For some reason it made her sad, and she couldn’t quite meet his eye. The ride back she fumed. She was furious at Beaumont, angry with Matthew for denying her, at Nathaniel for glaring… and stupid Eli for blowing her cover in the first place.

  When the truck had not returned to Devil’s Hollow by midday, Charlie took the sack of cash, invaded Matthew’s office, and opened his ledgers. Poring over his books, she did the same job she’d done for Radcliffe all those years ago.

  After dark, Matthew cleared his throat from the door, Charlie looked up, startled.

  Dry, to the point, she asked, “Who sent him?”

  Closing the office door behind him, Matthew glanced down at the ledger she’d been marking. “He didn’t know. You killed the ringleader. Roy was just hired muscle.”

  Charlie pursed her lips. Even the muscle tended to know things—small things that might add up to a lot. “How much was he offered in pay?”

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  She let out a low whistle. “Sounds a bit too good to be true, don’t you think? Six men, five hundred a piece, someone’s got deep pockets and was wise enough to hire a guy to pick the locks and sneak in. They respect your reputation.” Charlie looked to the ceiling as she mulled it over. After a quick breath, she looked him dead in the eye. “What were they told to do with you? Rough you up? Quick death? Torture?”

  Matthew grunted. “Torture.”

  Laughing just a little, Charlie snorted, “What kind, Matthew?”

  He didn’t move or offer an answer.

  “The question is important. Certain men have trademarks.”

  “Charlotte,” the words seemed hard for him, “you can’t stay here alone when we’re gone. I know you want to, but you can’t.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Grey eyes turned dark. “They were going to rape you while I watched. They knew you’d be here alone. That’s why they snuck in.”

  Charlotte sucked her lower lip between her teeth, nodding. She’d figured as much. “Did they know about me before they came down to buy those sixty gallons?”

  Matthew looked to be at a loss. “Roy didn’t know.”

  Hating that her blood turned cold, Charlie asked, “Is he still alive?”

  “If he is, he won’t be much longer.” After cutting off a few key body parts, Matthew and Nathaniel had left Roy to bleed out just as he’d left her.

  She looked to the side in thought. “You know they’ll come after you again.”

  His scowl was somewhat rueful, the man clearly worn out. “Why you lookin’ at my accounts?”

  Grumbling, not at all happy with how little Matthew had learned, Charlie turned her attention to the figures. “I kept the books for Beaumont. Figured I’d enter the cash you shoved at me last night to help.” Looking to lighten the mood she peeked at him from the corner of her eye and smirked. “Found a few errors… and you’ll need to add a thing or two. With the available income generated from my properties up north, my logging stock, not to mention petty cash I have hidden all over creation, you’ll need to add my honest money to your dirty.”

  She could tell at once he didn’t like the idea of absorbing her cash. So when he opened his mouth and made a deadpan joke, her jaw dropped. “It’s a federal offense to use a false identity, spitfire. Ain’t no penny of your money honest.”

  And like that they laughed.

  It felt good to smile, Charlie a little less angry. “I suppose you’re right. Either way, if you’re fool enough to marry me, and meant what you said about me standing by your side, then you have to take my money and merge it with yours.”

  He was almost amused, and just a hairsbreadth from annoyed. “This you punishing me for last night?”

  She looked up at him from under her brows. “What man finds the addition of eight thousand dollars and a monthly income just shy of two hundred bucks a punishment? You should be kissing me for all my careful saving and investing.”

  “You wantin’ me to kiss you now, hmmm?” He was gruff, running his hand over his scruff. Matthew’s appraisal was thorough, a little light coming back to his eyes. “In three weeks we’re gettin’ hitched… I’ll kiss you then.”

  With those parting words, he turned and left.

  Disappointed, Charlie realized he was punishing her. Not for peeking at his ledgers or mouthing off… but for sneaking around behind his back to hunt Roy. Well, two could play that game. Since there was to be no kissing, that night she joked it was fitting for her to sleep alone. She had not expected him to, but Matthew agreed. All night Charlie lay there, hating the feeling of a cold bed, Gus was curled up next to her, not quite comfort enough.

  When the sun rose and Matthew didn’t complain about his cot in the hall or make a move to reclaim his place in the bedroom, her smugness faded. Charlie began to worry. Another night separated passed, then another, and worry turned to dread.

  Though he was cordial, Matthew wouldn’t touch her. He didn’t much speak to her.

  From the way he was acting, Charlie began to suspect Matthew no longer wanted her.

  * * *

  Three days later Charlie rose early, finding Matthew already up and working in his office downstairs. There was no good morning kiss, no smile. Charlie couldn’t take it. A long walk to the homestead of Sheriff Cormac settled her somewhat. Ruth was expecting her, waiting with a quick smile and a spare apron.

  “Eli snuck on by yesterday,” Ruth whispered as she kneaded dough. “Had a gash clear across the back of his head.”
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  “Yeah, I stitched him up,” Charlie murmured, unthinking as she fretted over waking up alone… again.

  The slender girl at her side froze. “What do you mean you stitched him up?”

  Flushing from the narrowed, almost inhospitable gaze of her friend, Charlie admitted, “He got bashed in the head. I did the stitchin’ a few days ago while his cousins were away.”

  “Hmmmm.” Small hands went back to working the dough. “Considering the fact that you’re murdering that dough with your hands and surly as a bear, perhaps you want to explain yourself… and just why my Eli needed to have his scalp sewn back together.”

  Jaw tight, Charlie said, “I’m at an impasse with Matthew. And, as for Eli, looks like that boy needs to learn when to duck.”

  Ruth suddenly concerned, brushed Eli’s impetuousness aside. “He ain’t getting cold feet, is he?”

  What if he was? What if Matthew was so mad over her hunting down Roy that he’d changed his feelings?

  Charlie’s eyes grew wet as she thought over the probability. Worry heavy in her voice she blurted, “I… I don’t know. It’s just that he refuses to kiss me until the wedding.”

  Ruth looked a bit confused. “Well, isn’t that kinda romantic?”

  Taking her hands from the dough, Charlie wiped her forehead. “Considering how much he liked to kiss me before… and how mad he’s been, I’m not sure.”

  “Why would he be mad?”

  A gusty breath, and Charlie felt her share of the anger rumble deep down. “We had a disagreement on my role as his wife. Matthew dislikes my...” she paused, looking for the right phrasing, “independent nature.”

  “Well, far as I can tell he likes you just fine. Whole town been gossipin’ about your upcoming nuptials,” Ruth teased, trying to cheer her. “You’re just having last minute weddin’ jitters. And keep in mind, that carpenter Mr. Emerson hired is from my church. I heard him tell Daddy that your mister commissioned him to build some real fine things, just to please you. That sound like a man who is second guessing his devotion?”

  Her friend’s gentle words loosened Charlie’s knots. Charlie took a breath and offered a timid smile. “You’re right… I’m just full of nonsense.”

  An impish smirk grew on Ruth’s lips. “But I can understand your frustration. If Eli stopped kissin’ me, it sure would put me in a mood too.”

  It was Charlie’s turn to poke fun. “From the look on your face, Miss Ruth, I have a feeling he’s been doing a lot more than kissin’ on you.”

  The girl blushed scarlet. Yup, Eli had finally got a hand up her skirt.

  Chapter 15

  Ruth had worked wonders settling Charlie down. By the time she’d left her friend, arms laden with bread, all seemed much better. The wise girl was right. All Charlie’s worrying was silly, a waste of time.

  Back at Devil’s Hollow with a hitch in her step, Charlie slapped a fresh cherry pie down and gave a hunched Nathaniel a grin.

  The smile was not returned.

  She tried again, teasing, “I haven’t seen you around the last couple of days, Nathaniel. You been avoiding me?”

  He was deep in his jar, bleary-eyed and tired. “I ain’t been around is all. Stills needed tendin’.”

  Charlie could spot the lie from a mile away and grew immediately suspicious. “First Matthew, now you…” Her attention flew to where Eli swept the floors. “Are you next Eli? Want to join the ‘we’re sore at Charlie club’?”

  Staring straight ahead, Nathaniel took a deep gulp from his jar and barked, “You had no right running around wild and alone like you were.”

  The calm Ruth had sweetly cultivated vanished. Charlie’s hackles went up. “I have as much a right as you do!”

  The jar hit the bar, Nathaniel turning his woolly head to glare. “You should’ve stayed where you could be watched over, not prancing around places like Friendly’s!”

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Face red, Charlie stood tall. “We’ve traded bawdy stories about speakeasies, whorehouses, and dark alleys for six months. And now suddenly I’m fragile? Take a look at yourself.” She pointed her eyes to his bruised knuckles, the fading marks on his jaw. “I’m the only one of us who left without a scratch. I’m the one who found the bastard. And I’m the one who would’ve had him if you jackasses hadn’t come barging in.”

  Nathaniel stood from his chair, roaring right in her face. “What we did to that man, you should never have considered doin’, girl!”

  “It ain’t nothing I haven’t done before.” Charlie slapped the bar, her other hand balled up like she might just pop him in the mouth. “And you didn’t even get any useful information!”

  “We got answers enough.” He looked downright disgusted with her.

  “That’s enough now, Nathaniel.” Matthew burst from his office, pointing at his brother like he better take a step back. “Put down the liquor and head on home now. Sleep it off.”

  Grumbling, Nathaniel gripped his jar, shoved past Charlie, and lumbered out the door.

  Watching her friend leave, Charlie felt like her heart had been ripped out. Stinging eyes went to Eli, Charlie unclenching her fist. “You got something to say to me?”

  The boy shook his head.

  Determined not to cry, her gaze cut to Matthew, she glared at him with so much fury, so much distrust. Fed up with all the coldness, she swiped her pie off the counter and stormed out, loudly cursing the Emerson men to Hell.

  Walking in the woods, eating a whole pie with her fingers, didn’t help at all. Charlie didn’t know what to do. At the thought of packing up her stuff and hitting the road, she cried.

  They might not want her around, but she could still do something for them. She could find out what the hell was going on, break a few necks, and disappear when it was over. She could do that for the Emersons, at least. And then they could fend for themselves.

  Mind made up, Charlie went home, finding Matthew had left the porch light on for her. The regulars were gone, Eli was gone, and Matthew she could hear scraping around in his office. Going in quiet, she made her way upstairs, washed up, and opened the door to the lonely bedroom.

  Flipping on the light, she caught sight of a large box sitting innocently on the bed. Charlie ran her fingers over the wrapping, the fine ivory waxed-cardboard of the dress shop shining pretty. The bow was carefully pulled, the lid lifted to expose her finished wedding gown.

  It was just as beautiful as she remembered, so pretty she was hesitant to touch it. Lifting it out, she held it before her body and faced the small oval mirror. She caught herself smiling. The smile faded. With a sigh, Charlie hung the dress from a peg, sat at the edge of the bed and just looked at it.

  She felt foolish. She felt sad.

  A light tap came to her door. Charlie stood, opened it just a crack, careful to block Matthew’s view of the gown. The man stood there, Gus tucked under his arm, quiet.

  “What?”

  A look passed over his face, as if he were trying to decide on what to say. In the end he extended the cat and grunted, “He’s been standing outside your door.”

  Taking the kitten, she nodded her thanks, and closed her door. She’d never in her life been quite the blubbering mess she was that night. It was humiliating trying to keep her sniffing quiet, trying not to flat out sob. Lying in that bed, Gus curled up at her side, Charlie stared into the dark, feeling more alone than she had ever known.

  Like an infection of the mind, over and over her fight with Nathaniel played in her head. It wasn’t until almost dawn that she wised up.

  He’d said, We got answers enough.

  He’d said it like it had all been her fault.

  Motherfucker.

  Roy had coughed up something, something Matthew had neglected to mention, something that stirred up the Emerson hive. Something they weren’t going to tell her. That explained Matthew looking at her so queerly after Nathaniel left—he was trying to gauge if she’d caught on. What if the attack had not been aimed at Mat
thew at all, what if someone from her past had caught up with her? What if it was all her fault?

  The second Matthew heard her door he’d leapt from bed to make sure the golden girl wasn’t making a run for it. He caught her in the hall, her suitcases packed.

  “Where you goin’?”

  Sighing, bored, as if to remind him, Charlie deadpanned, “Martha’s shower is in a few days. My train for Chicago leaves this morning. The Radcliffes are expecting me around six.”

  His voice came out funny. “It’s your party, Charlotte.”

  Brushing past, she moved towards the stairs. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

  * * *

  She refused to let him see her to the platform, wouldn’t look him in the eye. When Matthew came home from the station and found her wedding dress hanging on the wall, it was all he could do not to chase after her, to try and beg her not to cry all night again.

  Of course he’d heard it. He’d spent a sleepless night with his ear pressed to her door.

  It was safe to say he’d made a right mess of things. But now it was the Radcliffes he had to trust her to. That’s where she was going; she’d have no choice in that. They’d keep her distracted, occupied, so that he might make everything right.

  Matthew had lied to her.

  Roy Beachum had been ordered to kill any man he found at Devil’s Hollow; that much was true. But Beachum’s gang had been hired to nab Charlotte. They had waited for the men to be gone. And they’d come in after her.

  It wasn’t about money.

  It wasn’t a turf war, a rivalry, or bad blood with the Emerson clan.

  It was about her.

  That’s why he couldn’t tell her. She’d run off. He knew it. Nathaniel knew it. She’d run off to keep them safe. She’d run off where bad men might find her. And he could hardly look her in the eye, because every time he did Matthew was certain he would swallow his heart, grab her too tight, and she’d figure out what he’d concealed to keep her safe.