Authors: Sarah McCarty
The set of his mouth softened. “Don’t worry, ma’am. He knows what she means to you.”
No one knew that. She kept walking. Shadow fell into step beside her. “Any idea where we’re going?”
She blew out a breath. “
I’m
going for a walk.”
“Before breakfast?”
She hugged her midriff. “I’m not hungry.”
“I am.”
“Then go eat.”
He shrugged. “Can’t rightly do that seeing as I’m to guard you.”
“I don’t care.”
His stomach rumbled. She steeled herself not to feel guilty as he asked, “You’re dead set on skipping breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Well, hell.” He cradled his gun in the crook of his arm, muzzle pointed away from her. “Now Caine’s going to have my hide for sure.”
She sighed, because he clearly wasn’t going to shut up until he got to his point. “Why?”
“Because he said specifically that I was to make sure you didn’t get upset and miss meals.”
“If he didn’t want me upset, he should have told me he was leaving and why.”
“I won’t argue with you there, ma’am.”
“Desi,” she corrected, slowing her pace. That agreement in his statement might have been genuine.
He nodded. “Desi, it’s just a suggestion, but you might just consider how Caine is before you go getting mad at him for doing what comes natural.”
“Lying comes naturally?”
The corners of his mouth twitched in what could have been amusement. “Sometimes.”
They’d reached the barn. Shadow reached around her to open the door. She stepped aside. Unlike Caine, he made her nervous. She wasn’t going inside a dark barn with him. Boone slipped between them. She covered her nervousness by petting his head. She turned the other way, leaving Shadow holding the door. She didn’t want to hear Shadow’s explanation. She didn’t want anything to mitigate her anger at Caine. She wanted to hold onto her anger. That way she didn’t have to hurt.
Shadow was as good as his name, following her, nagging her with that silent patience that seemed bred into the men out here. Every footfall, every breath he took, prodded her common sense until finally she stopped dead just short of the henhouse, folded her arms across her chest and practically spit, “Just get it out.”
He had the gall to look innocent. “What?”
“Whatever it is you think I should understand about Caine.”
There was nothing obvious about the shift in his expression, but she still had the impression that he felt he’d won. It didn’t take but a second to figure out why.
“I’d be more comfortable talking over breakfast.”
“Then we can forget it.”
He motioned her forward with a smooth gesture. “Shall we continue with our constitutional then?”
Constitutional. A fancy way to put running away. Desi pulled her shawl tighter against the morning chill. Ahead of her, Cantankerous strutted, ready to fight, beyond him in the woods, men might be waiting to take her hostage. Beside her stood a stranger ready to give his life for hers simply because her husband had asked him to. A man who apparently was willing to talk about her husband, the one man she wanted to understand above all others. She was annoyed at being manipulated and stubborn by nature, but she wasn’t a fool. This was a golden opportunity. She spun on her heel and headed to the house, ignoring his soft chuckle as she said, “I think I’d rather have breakfast.”
Normally he hated killing on an empty stomach, but he could make an exception today. Caine crept across the roof of the building containing James and his cronies, being careful not to disturb the shakes. It was just pure dumb luck that the men he wanted to visit had called a meeting above the warehouse the night he’d come hunting. Now that evening was upon them, the time of reckoning was at hand. Below, he saw Sam slip into the building through a side window, gun drawn. Around back, he knew an equally lethal Tracker was taking care of the other escape route. His smile spread cold and easy. The rats were trapped. He swung down off the overhang, dropping onto the balcony below. The wood rocked under his feet. He crouched, holding his pistol up, waiting to see if the structure held. Having the balcony collapse was not part of his plan. When he was sure it would hold, he crept up to the window beside the door.
“What in hell is so important, James, we had to miss our dinners to hear it?”
Caine recognized the voice coming through the thin glass of the window. It belonged to Bryan, the fat banker. He shifted his position to get a better view of the inside of the room. Judging from the crates stacked along the walls, it was used for storage, which meant the men were taking no chance on being overheard. He could see James and Bryan clearly. The other occupant was merely a shadow cast by a lamp.
“Maybe he’s heard word about the sister,” the shadowy figure offered in a softer, almost effeminate voice. The other banker, Carl?
“Hell, no. She’s more than likely just a corpse rotting in the sun.”
And from the sound of it, James couldn’t care less. Caine cocked the hammer on his gun.
“It was stupid to let her go in the first place,” Bryan retorted.
“I didn’t see you reaching in your pockets to keep her put.” James ran his hand over his hair, none of that false charm on his face now. The shadows from the lamp narrowed his features until he looked exactly what he was: a well-dressed snake.
“I didn’t know you were going to bungle things to the point we’d lose the first,” Bryan sneered, reaching in his pocket. He pulled out a can of snuff.
If looks could kill, the one James cut Bryan would have severed his head. There was definitely trouble in paradise.
“We only needed one.”
For what, Caine wanted to know.
“But if we’d had both, we would have had insurance.”
“You worry too damn much, Carl.”
So Carl was the shadow.
“After my last meeting with our associate, I don’t think you’re worrying enough.”
Caine eased closer. The associate was the one he wanted.
“He was angry?” Bryan asked, an edge to the question.
“I wouldn’t exactly call him pleased. We wired and told him it was settled, and now we don’t have the woman he wants, and we can’t confirm the other is dead.”
“She’s dead. If she wasn’t fucked to death before she cleared the territory she sure as shit was once she hit Tejala’s land.”
Bryan’s lip curled as he tucked his snuff into his cheek. “But you don’t have proof, do you? And he wants proof.”
“Then he can fucking go get it himself. Tejala’s territory is not a safe place for any gringo.”
“Here’s not going to be safe, either, if we don’t get this settled.”
If they’d just give him a name, Caine would settle it for them right now.
A match flared in the corner, casting dancing shadows on the opposite wall. “We still only need one, and we know where she is.”
“Hell’s Eight land isn’t much better than Tejala territory,” Bryan said.
“Not everyone is as chickenshit as you,” James sneered.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that for the right price, anything is possible and our little problem should be taken care of by this time tomorrow.”
Caine stiffened and eased back against the wall. They’d sent someone for Desi?
“How much did it cost?” Carl asked.
“More than you cheap bastards wanted to pay.”
Carl waved, the shadow of the movement exaggerated against the far wall. “It doesn’t matter what it costs anymore. We need her back. Our associate is not pleased with the delay.”
Bryan was a banker to his toes, and his “It wouldn’t hurt to know who he hired and at what cost” clearly indicated he didn’t trust James.
“I hired Apache Jack.”
“I thought he was dead.”
James cut the man a pitying glance. “Apparently not. For twenty-five hundred, he’s going to bring the girl back.”
Rage burned hot in Caine’s chest. Apache Jack was about as low as a man could go. Scorned by both races, Apache and white, he had a penchant for torture and killing that reflected nothing less than the sheer joy he got from both. He exercised his skill to the extent he’d devised his own brand of killing for those that got on his bad side. A series of knots tied so that when a victim couldn’t stand anymore, or tried to get free, he strangled to death, slowly and agonizingly, brought down by their own weakness one way or another. And they’d sent that monster after his Desi? Son of a bitch.
“Alive?” Bryan asked, the lecherous twist to his mouth indicating where his interest lay.
“That cost another five hundred.”
“Did you pay it?”
James laughed. “Hell, yes. I’ve got a score to settle with the little bitch.”
“You can settle your score after I get through with her.”
“You got that big a taste for our little Desdemona?” James asked, his scorn for the banker as evident as the banker’s for him.
“I liked having her at my disposal.”
And helpless, Caine bet. The fat shit. It was all he could do not to put a bullet in the man’s brain. His stomach roiled at the thought of what Desi had endured at the man’s hands. Hell, it was a miracle she’d let him touch her, let alone responded. He knew Tracker and Sam were at the other side of the door, no doubt hearing the same thing he was. He hoped to hell their disgust didn’t get the better of them. He needed the accomplice’s name, and it would be a hell of a lot easier to pick up in conversation than to get it by force, though—he touched the knife in his belt—the latter did have its attractions.
“About the only thing that would have made it better would be to have both those women together,” Bryan said, fingering his snuff can. “Identical twins. I’ve never had that before.”
Bryan visibly shivered with the force of his own fantasy. James wasn’t far behind. “Shit, yeah.”
“How soon is this Apache Jack going to have her back?” Carl interrupted, no lust, no nothing in his tone.
“We’ll have her back tomorrow, the day after if he runs into trouble.”
“Alive?”
“That’s what I paid for.”
“But you’re not sure?”
James, the oily son of a bitch, just shrugged. “You know Desdemona. She has a way of trying a man’s patience, and with Apache Jack, it’s anybody’s guess whether he’ll find cutting her throat or collecting the rest of the reward more suiting.”
“Hard to believe she’ll have much fight in her after servicing the Hell’s Eight men.” Bryan licked his lips. “Think she spread her thighs for those Indians, too?”
A floorboard creaked. Carl came into view now. A slender dandy in a gray suit, looking too innocuous to be as cold-blooded as he was. “What I think is that it doesn’t matter anymore.”
There was something strange about how he was holding himself. Caine shifted to get a better view of his arm as Carl headed for the door. Carl pulled something long and thin from his pocket. Too big to be a cigar. It took Caine the same split second it took Bryan and James to recognize what Carl held in his hand. Dynamite fed with a very short fuse. As he reached the door, Carl stated calmly, “You two have become a liability.”
Bryan threw up his hands. “Hold on, Carl. There’s no need for this.”
James’s eyes locked on the deadly stick. “That solicitor won’t be happy if you do this. He needs us.”
Carl touched his smoke to the fuse, a strange smile on his face. Sparks shot out. “Who do you think gave the order?”
He tossed the sizzling explosive at their feet.
Shit!
Caine gave the emergency whistle and dove for the edge of the balcony. As he flipped over the edge, holding on to the handrail, he caught a glimpse of Carl’s shock when he opened the door and saw Sam standing there. Saw Sam’s quick assessment of the scene and his grim smile as he hurled the smaller man back into the room. The door closed. Caine dropped and, above him, the sky exploded.
Caine hit the street hard. His knees buckled as pain shot up his calves. He covered his head and rolled into the lee of the building as pieces of wood pelted the ground around him. Through the roaring in his ears, he could hear women’s screams and men’s curses. A bell clanged the alarm. Footsteps ran by him. His shoulder collided with the edge of the porch.
Caine uncovered his head. People were spilling out of shops, staring in shock at the building above him. Caine got to his feet. His gun was lying three feet away. He picked it up. No one challenged him. He dusted off his pants.
“You all right?” Tracker asked as he came up beside him.
“Yeah. How about you?”
“A little scorched but fine.”
He looked around. “Where’s Sam?”
“Checking on things.”
Caine looked up at the flames devouring the pending night. “Christ, no one could survive that.”
“You know Sam. He just has to be sure scum meets its end.”
“You heard?”
Beside them, men formed a brigade, tossing buckets of water into the inferno.