Sea of Dreams (The American Heroes Series Book 2) (16 page)

Mike’s dark eyes took on a strange glitter. “Because of him,” he said. “He used to keep people down there that he wanted to disappear, or worse.  He used to do his business down there.”

He wasn’t making any sense and Blakesley put up her hands to slow him down. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Who are you talking about? Tell me the story from the beginning because you’re not making any sense.”

Mike sighed heavily, calming now that Blakesley had called off the big blond man.  He shifted on the floor, moving to the bottom stair of the ceramic-tiled staircase, and planted himself.   He seemed to be pondering her question.

“Don’t you know anything about this house?” he asked.  “You bought it – somebody should have told you.”

Blakesley was trying to follow him but not liking what she was hearing. “This house has been in my family since it was built,” she said. “The builder was my great-grandfather several times over. I know he was the marshal in the early days of San Diego and….”

Mike waved her off. “Ben Earp was an outlaw. Don’t let no one tell you different.”

“Why?”

“Because he was a mean man who bootlegged whisky, robbed stages,  ran a saloon full of prostitutes, and then would murder people who tried to stop him,” he pointed at Blakesley in a matter-of-fact sort of way. “Ben Earp came out here back when the Mexicans still had California.  He married a local Mexican woman and he was like a big bandito in this area.   He was the law but he only enforced it if there was something in it for him. Otherwise, he’d shoot you just as soon as look at you.”

Shocked, Blakesley looked at Beck.  He met her gaze, not sure what to say to her.  He could see how uneasy she was as she turned back to Mike.

“Who told you that?” she demanded.

Mike shrugged. “Everybody knows that,” he said. “Read your history. You’ll see. Ben Earp was a bad man.”

“I know my ancestor and from what I know, he was just the town marshal. I never heard or read anything about him being an outlaw.”

Mike cocked an eyebrow. “Do you think your family would have told you he was bad? That makes them all look bad, including you. You need to read the history of San Diego and find out what Ben Earp was really like.”

Blakesley didn’t have a swift answer for that so, lacking the ability to do verbal battle on the subject, switched the focus. “Why do you say the tunnel is cursed?”

Mike settled in for a good, long story.  “’Cuz,” he went on. “My grampa told me this story, and he got it from his grampa, who knew Ben Earp personally.  It’s not just the tunnel that’s cursed, but the whole house.  The whole family, too. Seems that Ben Earp stole from the wrong person and his family has been cursed ever since.”

“Who did he steal from?”

“Bouchard started it,” Mike said frankly. “He was a pirate who used to sail around California back in the old days. Have you ever heard of him?”

Blakesley shook her head but Beck piped up. “I have,” he said quietly, looking at Blakesley. “He was a big pirate back in the days of the missions.”

As Blakesley nodded in understanding, Mike continued. “Back in the old, old days when Bouchard sailed around, he got a hold of some cursed gold down in Mexico somewhere. Some say it was Aztec gold stolen by the Spanish, and the Aztecs put a curse on it.  So ol’ Bouchard goes through a big string of bad luck and someone tells him it’s the gold that’s causing it.  Well, sailors are a superstitious bunch, so Bouchard dumps the gold off at the San Diego mission.  The padres were glad to get it until they started suffering their own bad luck- restless Indians, drought, famine. You can look in your history books and it’ll tell you how badly the mission suffered during that time.  Anyway, the padres start figuring out that Bouchard’s gold is the cause of all their misery, ‘cuz it all started when the pirate gave them the gold, but being good men they didn’t want to just give it to someone and put the curse on them.  Still, they had to get rid of it.”

Blakesley was hanging on every word. “So what did they do?”

Mike scratched his nose casually. “They all knew that Ben Earp was corrupt and a thief.  Nobody in town liked him but they were all afraid of him, including the padres. According to my grampa, the padres made it easy for Ben to steal the gold.  They let him know they had it, where it was, and ol’ Ben slipped in one night and took it.  That way, the padres are rid of it, Ben’s got the stolen gold, and the curse continues with him.”

Blakesley looked a little stunned by the story. “But that doesn’t explain why you said the tunnel is cursed.”

Mike threw a thumb back in the direction of the pit. “Because that’s where ol’ Ben kept his ill gotten gains, including that cursed gold,” he said. “Ben would keep people he didn’t like down there, chained up like in a dungeon.  Once, he kept a wealthy Mexican down there and ransomed him to his family, but the man didn’t live to see daylight again. He died down there. You see his writings all over the walls. “

Blakesley was seized with uneasiness, with some sorrow. “Is he the one that wrote about the road of the damned?”

Mike nodded. “That’s what it is.  That tunnel was the road to hell for some.”  As Blakesley struggled to absorb what he was telling her, Mike continued on. “Now, I’m curious; what’s your relationship to Ben Earp?”

Blakesley was clearly distracted and uneasy. “He’s my great-great-great grandfather,” she said. “My mother was an Earp.”

“Mollie or Kelly?”

She was instantly suspicious. “How do you know that?”

Mike shrugged. “Because I knew the Earp girls,” he said. “My family has been in San Diego as long as yours. Mollie and Kelly were real dolls back in the day.”

Blakesley’s suspicious stance eased. “My mother was Mollie,” she said. “She passed away last year. That’s why the house is mine now. I bought it from her.”

“Hmpf,” Mike grunted thoughtfully. “Sorry to hear that. But she never told you about the Earp Curse?”

Blakesley shook her head. “No,” she said. “She never talked much about her family, really. I just know the lineage and our relationship to Wyatt, but not much else. I just got the impression that there wasn’t a whole lot to tell.”

Mike’s dark eyes were fixed on her. “So you didn’t know?”

“No.”

He took a thoughtful breath, looking around the structure as of the walls could confirm his story. “Has your family had a run of bad luck?”

She thought on his question, fear creeping into her veins as she pondered the deeper implications. “Well,” she started off slowly. “My mother was killed by a drunk driver.  We’ve had our share of illness, financial ruin and things like that.  My aunt’s home in San Diego burned down twice before they decided not to rebuild and moved to Las Vegas.  And then there’s me….”

She stopped, not wanting to go any further.  She was starting to feel very uneasy and incredibly depressed.   Beck, increasingly resistant to Mike’s wild stories, stepped in before things got out of hand.

“Your stories are entertaining, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But curses are a bunch of bullshit, so don’t waste any more of her time with that kind of crap.  What we need to focus on is figuring out where you’re going to live. You can’t live in that hole anymore, so I suggest you start figuring out where you can go.”

Mike looked stricken. “I don’t have nowhere else to go,” he told Beck. “I’ve lived in the canyon for twenty years.”

“Not anymore,” Beck said firmly. “There’s some homeless shelters downtown.  I’ll call and see if the Salvation Army has room for you.”

Mike jumped to his feet. “I don’t want to go!” he said. “You can’t make me!”

He suddenly bolted from the room, racing back towards the room with the pit.  They could hear him banging around in the increasing darkness. Beck started to follow but Blakesley stopped him.

“No,” she had him by the arm. “Leave him alone. I don’t care if he stays here tonight. I’ll call social services tomorrow and see if we can’t get someone out here tomorrow to take him and his belongings out of here. But for tonight… just let him be. I don’t want a big battle on my hands tonight.”

Beck immediately backed down, taking one of her hands into his big, warm palm.  He didn’t agree with her but respected her decision. “”Okay,” he conceded reluctantly. “So what do you want to do now? Are you ready to get out of here?”

She nodded, somewhat subdued. “I am,” she sighed. “I guess I just need to go back to the hotel and digest all of this.”

Beck had her hand as he led her towards the front door. “You’re not taking all of that curse crap seriously, are you?”

She shrugged weakly. “It would explain a lot.”

“Including me?”

She looked at him, his impish smile, and broke into soft laughter. “No, baby, not you,” she pinched his cheek affectionately. “You’re the best thing out of all of this.”

He was glad he had been able to lighten her mood.  He didn’t want tales of curses and outlaws clouding her up. Moreover, he was looking forward to spending the evening with her because he honestly didn’t know what would happen tomorrow when he reported to work.  There were some things heating up, things he couldn’t talk about, and he suspected he might be deployed again fairly soon.  He didn’t want anything to wreck this night.

The sun was nearly down by the time he led her from the structure and secured the old, big lock.  He wasn’t even sure why he was locking the place considering old Mike could come and go as he pleased through the jagged pit in the floor.   Still, he locked it up and took Blakesley’s hand as he walked her over to his truck.  He opened the door for her, like a gentleman, and then climbed in the driver’s seat and took off. 

Although he didn’t look at her, he could see Blakesley turn and watch the house fade in the distance as they drove off. He knew her mind was still working on curses and Wild West stories.

 The truth was that his mind was kind of working on them, too.

Chapter Nine

Crosby had a big bruise on her left butt cheek that Blakesley wouldn’t let her show to Beck, for obvious reasons.  She also had scraped palms and a scrape on her knee, which she eagerly showed Beck and received the hoped-for sympathy. It even earned her a spot on his lap and she sat happily, demanding his attention and mostly getting it.

Arriving at the two-room hotel suite around dinner time, the girls were already bathed and in their pajamas.  Blakesley knew that Beck wanted to take them out to dinner, a notion he quickly quelled when he saw that the three little girls were already ready for bed.  He suggested they order pizza but the hotel suite had a kitchenette with a two-eye stovetop and oven, and Blakesley offered to cook.  Beck didn’t argue with her; he was just glad to be spending the time with her, no matter what they were doing.  In fact, he was rather looking forward to a home-cooked meal.  He couldn’t remember when he last had one.

The evening quickly morphed into an oddly domestic situation, something Beck hadn’t experienced in over four years.  He went with Blakesley to the market, following her around while she purchased chicken and asparagus, and other goodies for the girls.  He would casually walk behind her as she pushed the cart up the aisles, bending over to kiss her neck or pat her butt when no one was around.  She giggled, swept away with his flirting, feeling extremely lucky to be with him.  She hadn’t enjoyed such flirting in years and wasn’t hard pressed to admit she had missed it.  Beck seemed to bring it out in her and she responded to him without reserve.

So they flirted and charmed their way through the market and after they put the groceries back in the car and climbed in to return to the hotel, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her ferociously. Blakesley turned herself over to him completely, not giving any thought to the fact that they were making out in the supermarket parking lot. Eventually, Beck forced himself to pull away, groaning reluctantly when she turned the car on and backed out of the lot.   His eyes drifted over her great figure, her full breasts, and he had to look away because he could feel himself growing aroused.  The woman had an overwhelming effect on him and he was loving every minute of it.

He helped her with dinner as much as he was able, but the truth was that she was very efficient in the kitchen and he eventually sat back with Crosby and Charlotte on his lap and watched her cook.  Nikki bustled around setting the coffee-table with place settings and helping with little tasks, freeing Beck up to just watch Blakesley as she worked. 

It was a hugely settling and comforting feeling to be with her, watching her prepare dinner, holding two little girls on his lap who poked at his nose and then screamed with delight when he pretended to bite their fingers.  He couldn’t have hoped for anything more divine.  He also realized, with increasing fear and excitement that he would give everything he owned to be able to come home to Blakesley and the girls every night. He had told her once he would never marry again because he couldn’t do that to someone he loved.  Now he wasn’t so sure.  

When the chicken, rice and asparagus dish was done, he carried Crosby and Charlotte out to the living room where Nikki had set up their dinner table.   Crosby didn’t want to be put down, however, and neither did Charlotte, so he ended up sitting on the floor with a little girl on each knee, trying to eat around them.  Blakesley had tried several times to remove the girls but they had put up such a fuss that Beck told her to leave them alone.   Blakesley sat down next to him while Cadee and Nikki sat across the table.

Blakesley hardly ate any of her meal.  She was too busy watching Beck with her daughters, little girls whose own father had been so absent in their young lives.   Charlotte fed Beck pieces of asparagus, dropping more on the carpet than she was actually getting into his mouth, while Crosby stuffed her face with chicken and bounced up and down on Beck’s big knee.  It warmed Blakesley’s heart hugely to watch Beck with her girls, finding herself more and more enamored with the man. He was so gentle and sweet with them, and that touched her deeply.

“You obviously have a way with little girls,” she commented softly, smiling when he looked up from his food. “How often do you see your daughter?”