Authors: Connie Mason
All talk ceased when Belle stepped into the room, and all eyes turned in her direction. Her features were obscured by the deep folds of her hood, but there was no mistaking the small feminine form wrapped within the dark cloak. Stiffening her spine, Belle limped her way to the bar.
“If ya want a room, lady, ya come to the right place,” the barkeep said. “Where’s yer man? If yer lookin’ fer one, there’s plenty here to choose from.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
Belle swallowed past a lump of fear. “I’m looking for someone. Someone willing to do a job for me with no questions asked.”
The barkeep’s eyes grew flinty. “Ya got money?”
“Enough to pay generously for the job. Do you know someone who will fit the bill? I was told men known as Sydney Ducks frequented the waterfront.”
“So it’s Sydney Ducks ya want, eh? You’ve come to the right place.” He motioned toward two men at the end of the bar, who were leering at her with lewd appreciation. “There be two of them, lady. That pair would be right happy to take yer money, and anything else ya got to offer.” He laughed as if from some private joke.
The vulgar way in which the men were staring at Belle was nearly enough to cause her to flee. Their eyes gleamed with wicked intent and their faces revealed all too clearly their lustful thoughts. But the knowledge that Tommy was suffering in the hands of his unscrupulous grandfather gave her the courage to approach them.
“Look, Ferdie,” one of the men said, addressing
his friend, “if I ain’t mistaken we’re gonna get lucky tonight.”
“Aye, she looks like a rum one to me, Joey.”
Belle heard their remarks and ignored them. “Are you men interested in a proposition? You could earn a great deal of money if you are.”
“Who do you want us to kill, lady?” Joey snickered.
Belle gasped, aghast at their callous disrespect for life. She could expect no less from men culled from the dregs of society. “I don’t want you to kill anyone. I just want you to remove my son from a certain house and bring him to me. It won’t be easy. The house is heavily guarded.”
“Blimey,” Ferdie said, “that don’t sound hard. How much ya willin’ ta pay?”
“Five hundred dollars,” Belle stated emphatically. “The boy is my son; he’s five years old. His grandfather took him away from me and I want him back. The house is on Telegraph Hill.”
“Telegraph Hill, ain’t that where wealthy nobs live?” Ferdie mused. His voice hardened. “We want the money first.”
Belle was too smart to fall for that ploy. “No, you’ll get the money when I have my son, not before.”
“How do we know ya got that much money,” Joey asked slyly.
“You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
“No thanks, lady.” They turned away, their interest waning.
Belle was desperate. If all Sydney Ducks on the waterfront were like these two, demanding payment first, she’d never get Tommy back. Trusting them was out of the question. She feared they’d take off
with her money without fulfilling their part of the bargain. “I can pay you and I can prove it.” Their attention sharpened. “I have the money with me. If I show it to you, will you help me?”
“You have the money with you?” Joey said, sharing a knowing look with Ferdie. “Well, now, that changes everything, don’t it, Joey?” Joey nodded eagerly. “Where is the money, lady?”
Belle’s mouth went dry. She felt as if she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Did she have an alternative? The answer was obvious. “I have the money with me, that’s all you need to know. If you’ll turn around I’ll take it out and show it to you.”
Joey was actually drooling. “No, not here. There are too many people around. Come outside. Once we see the money you can tell us where to find the boy.”
Belle cast a fearful glance out the window and swallowed visibly. Trusting these two greedy-eyed creatures was dangerous. The matter was taken out of her hands when Ferdie and Joey flanked her on either side and herded her out the door.
Once outside, Joey grinned at Belle and held out his hand. “Right-ho, lady, show us the color of yer money.”
“Do you promise to follow my instructions? I don’t want my son hurt, mind you. And no killing.”
“We won’t hurt anyone, will we, mate?” Joey said, winking broadly at Ferdie.
“Not bloody likely,” Ferdie lied.
Too desperate to think past getting her son back in her arms where he belonged, Belle opened her reticule and pulled out a roll of bills.
Joey’s eyes gleamed. “Ain’t that sweet, mate.” He
tried to grab the reticule from Belle’s hands but she snatched it away in the nick of time.
“Give it to me,” Ferdie snarled.
All Belle’s senses screamed of danger. “No!” She started to run, but the men weren’t about to let that much money get away from them. They grabbed Belle from behind and backed her into a dark alley. Joey tore the reticule from her grasp, while Ferdie pushed her to the filthy, garbage littered ground and fell on top of her. Filling her lungs with air, Belle screamed and screamed and screamed, until Ferdie smashed his fist in her face, sending her into a black abyss.
D
arkness had settled over the waterfront when Casey returned to his lodging. He had spent most of the day reading through old copies of newspapers and going through records at city hall. A few times he’d thought he’d found something worth pursuing, then the lead fizzled out. But he wasn’t giving up. At some point, McAllister must have done something he wasn’t proud of. Unscrupulous men often left a trail of enemies, and Casey was determined to uncover McAllister’s shameful secrets. If he could ferret them out, Casey was banking on the fact that McAllister wouldn’t want them revealed, and would then be willing to listen to reason where Tommy was concerned.
Casey entered the Waterfront Inn, nodded to the proprietor, and started up the stairs to his room. He was nearly to the top when he was hailed from below.
“Mr. Walker, you have a letter.” He waved a sealed envelope in the air. “I’d almost forgotten.”
Casey bounded back down the stairs and seized the letter, hoping it was from Belle. “Thank you, Mr.
Lambert.” Casey tore open the envelope and read the message as he climbed the stairs. Suddenly he stopped, spit out a curse and leapt down the stairs to the landing. “Who delivered this, Mr. Lambert?”
“A Chinaman.”
“How long ago?”
“Late this afternoon. I hope it isn’t bad news.”
“It could be.” He tried to contain his fear, but he knew it was there in his expression. He had cautioned Belle not to do anything rash and she had foolishly chosen to disregard him. Thank God for Naomi’s warning. He prayed he would locate Belle before danger found her.
Casey made the rounds of the alehouses, saloons, and inns scattered along the waterfront. After visiting the first half dozen, he dared to hope that Belle had given up her ill-advised scheme. He entered the Wayfarer’s Inn, saw nothing to indicate that Belle had been there, and strode to the bar to question the barkeep.
“I’m looking for a woman,” Casey began. “The kind of woman not normally seen on the waterfront. She’s small and exceptionally pretty. Oh, yes, she walks with a slight limp.”
The barkeep eyed Casey warily. “What’s it to ya? Is she yer wife?”
“Not my wife, but a friend. I’m afraid she may be in trouble. If you haven’t seen her I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait! What’s it worth to ya?”
His shifty eyes gave Casey a glimmer of hope. The man knew something, he was sure of it. Casey wasn’t flush with money, but he still had enough to make the man’s mouth water when he pulled two ten dollar bills from his pocket.
The barkeep’s fist closed on the money. “Yeah,
she was in here. And if ya want my opinion, she was beggin’ fer trouble. She left not five minutes ago with a scurvy pair of Sydney Ducks.”
Casey paled visibly. Whirling on his heel, he pounded out the door. He reached the sidewalk and came to a screeching halt, faced with the challenge of selecting the direction in which Belle had gone. Then he heard a scream, and another, and another, then silence, and he no longer wondered where Belle had gotten to. The screams came from the alley between the Wayfarer’s Inn and another equally unsavory establishment.
Moments later he was standing at the alley’s entrance, squinting into the swirling spirals of darkness and fog. What he saw froze the blood in his veins. There were two men. The one nearest him was rifling through a woman’s reticule. And the other, oh, God, the other knelt between a woman’s outstretched legs. He was shoving her skirts past her thighs as he fiddled with the buttons on the front of his trousers. The woman appeared comatose; she was neither moving nor protesting his rough handling. Intuitively Casey knew it was Belle and wanted to kill the two men hurting her.
Casey gave a roar of outrage and charged down the narrow alley toward the man straining over Belle, ignoring the other man in his haste to get to Belle before serious harm was done to her. Ferdie never knew what hit him as Casey lifted him off Belle and threw him against the side of the building. There was a sickening thud as his head struck wood, and then Ferdie began a slow slide to the muck-littered ground.
“Here now, what did ye do to me mate?” Joey thundered. He dropped Belle’s reticule and reached for the weapon he carried beneath his jacket. He
wasn’t fast enough. Joey’s hand had yet to reach his gun when Casey aimed his own at the thug’s head.
“Drop the gun,” Casey order brusquely. Joey did as he was told. “Now pick up the reticule and put the money back into it.” Again Joey obeyed. “Now hand it to me.” Joey held out the purse and Casey tucked it into his waistband. “Take your friend and get out of here. If I ever see you attacking helpless women again I won’t give you a second chance. Move!” Casey ordered when Joey failed to act fast enough.
The look on Casey’s face dissuaded Joey from lingering. He half dragged, half carried Ferdie out of the alley. “If you’ve done the lady permanent damage you can’t run far enough or fast enough to get away from me. I’ll find you no matter where you go.”
Once the men rounded the corner, Casey pocketed Joey’s gun and dropped to his knees before Belle. She was still out cold. Carefully he picked her up, gathered her cloak around her, and carried her out of the alley into the fog-thickened night. When he paused beneath a street lamp, he saw the dark swelling on her jaw and spit out a curse. He was sorry now he had let the bastards get off so easily. At first he’d thought Belle had merely fainted, but he saw now that she had been struck a hard blow. A moment later she moaned, and Casey turned in the direction of the Waterfront Inn.
Since his own rooms were closer, Casey did not even consider taking Belle to her hotel. Or to Naomi’s. If her injuries were serious she needed immediate attention, and finding a hack on the waterfront this time of night would be next to impossible.
A few men sat in the common room of the inn when Casey entered, but they paid scant attention to the man carrying a woman up to his room. Things like
that happened all the time on the waterfront Only the proprietor appeared interested, and only because a second person in the room cost extra.
“If she’s going to stay the night it will cost you a dollar more,” the proprietor informed Casey as he started up the stairs.
“Fine, add it to my tab,” Casey bit out curtly.
Once in his room he placed Belle on the bed and carefully undressed her. It was difficult not to become aroused by her nudity as he searched for injuries and he tried to think of anything but her soft white skin beneath his fingertips. He covered her quickly when he found no damage, and dipped a cloth in water to bathe her forehead.
Belle stirred and moaned, instinctively seeking the coolness sliding across her forehead.
“Belle, wake up. Speak to me, love.”
Belle opened her eyes, blinking when a hazy image began to take shape. Casey! She started to rise, felt a sharp pain begin behind her eyes and fell back against the pillow.
“Where am I?”
“In my room.”
Her eyes widened. “How did I get here?”
“Don’t you remember?”
She started to shake her head then thought better of it. “No.”
“Think hard, love. What were you doing on the waterfront? Who were those two men I found you with?”
Belle’s brow furrowed. It hurt to think. And when she did start to remember, all she could recall was pain.
“Belle, if Naomi hadn’t gotten a message to me those men might have killed you. What in God’s
name were you thinking to come down here by yourself? Thank God I found you in time.”
Memory came to her on a rush, and with it keen disappointment. She had failed. Now she’d never see her son again. The anguish of that thought was unbearable. Huge tears rolled down Belle’s pale cheeks and she doubled over in pain.
“Where do you hurt, love? Should I go for the doctor? I should have killed those bastards when I had the chance.”
“I remember now, one of them struck me. I don’t know what happened after that. I wasn’t … They didn’t …?”
“I arrived before they got to you,” Casey assured her. “You were out like a light. I brought you to my room because it was closer than your hotel. You have a bruise the size of a lemon on your left cheek and a black eye, but no other injuries that I could tell.”
Suddenly Belle realized she was naked beneath the covers. “You undressed me!”
“I had to know if you sustained injuries elsewhere. Get some rest, love, it’s too late now to take you back to your hotel. And I’m not sure we could find a hack this time of night. I’ll take you back in the morning.”
Belle nodded warily. It occurred to her that Casey had saved her from dangerous situations on more than one occasion. But she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to spend the night in Casey’s bed. And she sure as hell didn’t trust Casey.
She started to rise but found she wasn’t as strong as she had hoped. Her head throbbed and her body ached from Ferdie’s mauling. She fell back with a sigh. When Casey chuckled, she sent him a sour look.
“You’re weak as a kitten. Go to sleep, Belle, I’m
not going to ravish you. You’ll feel stronger in the morning. Then we’ll talk about how foolish you were to attempt something like this.”