An Agent for Fallon

by Ginny Sterling

  “Are you men out for a walk this lovely evening?” Jack asked, and she heard the sarcastic tone in his voice, nearly groaning at how irritating her partner could be. They were armed, and he was goading them?

  “What d'you say, boy?”

  “Boy? Now that’s rich,” Jack laughed merrily. “I’ve not been called a boy for quite some time, or at least not since I could prove differently. Now, how about you show me what you are up to out here in the dark… or should I guess?”

  Neither said a thing nor moved.

  Fallon got goosebumps as she realized that they were trying to decide what their next move would be… assessing the danger from them, or sizing them up. Either reaction would not be good. This had been a stupid idea for them to investigate in the darkness. They should have tried to catch whoever it was red-handed and go from there. Being in the dark, alone, would only result in someone getting injured or worse if they were as bad as Jack had suggested. Instead of letting things go, his next words caused the best-laid plans to backfire.

  “I’ll be leaving now and taking my wife back to get some rest. You boys have a good night doing whatever it is you are up to,” Jack said firmly, stepping towards Fallon.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Excuse me?” Fallon blurted out in shock and dismay.

  “You can tell me who, and what, you two are doing here or neither of you are leaving.”

  There didn’t need to be much light in the alleyway to see what was happening. The shadowy arm extended slowly as he stepped forward, leveling a gun of some sort right at Jack!

  This couldn’t be happening, she thought desperately. While she barely got along with the man, he had a few nice qualities to him… and the last thing she wanted was to see him shot down in cold blood before her!

  “We are Pinkerton Agents,” she blurted out nervously and heard Jack’s groan of dismay.

  “Unspoken rule partner… you never admit that to the bad guys,” Jack bit out. The eerie pop of flesh hitting flesh was deafening as her pretend husband flew into action. It was like watching a black blob fall into the shadows, arms akimbo!

  The sounds of fighting were horrifying as she stood there frozen along the wall, unable to move. Part of her wanted to get help, but another part felt the urge to jump in.

  Fallon yanked out the pocketknife Jack had given her. She almost dropped it, her hands were shaking so badly. It unfolded after a moment and she edged her way to the tangled mass of men fighting on the ground. It was a matter of time before someone ended up shot! She jumped as gunfire exploded and Jack cursed viciously.

  “Jack!” she screamed, dread welling up inside.

  “Fallon! Get back!”

  “Fallon? That’s a pretty name,” the gravelly voice leered disgustingly, making her see red. She rushed forward with the knife and blindly stabbed at the pile of men on the ground. As the knife slid in, Fallon realized several things at once.

  This job was not for her!

  She would never forget the feeling of the knife in her hands nor the horrific sensation of it slipping into flesh. The metallic smell of blood on the night air was nauseating along with the awareness of what she’d done. An eerie laughter washed over the darkness, giving her a horrible feeling of foreboding. The scuffling and fighting drew to a stop as she stared sightlessly at the dark scene before her, trying to see what was going on.

  “Jack?”

  “I should’ve kept my stupid knife,” his voice echoed hollowly in the darkness. A hand grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her away from the wall. That was when she realized that she’d stabbed Jack, not their attackers.

  “Oh, my word… Jack?” she breathed, her voice rising with the building hysteria bubbling inside of her.

  “Your little wife is coming with us… for security.”

  Fallon’s mind snapped.

  She knew the moment that adrenaline took over and any coherent thought escaped her. Any other sane person would have screamed, run, or cried hysterically… not her. She was beyond thinking and acting on instinct.

  She began slapping and hitting at the man, fiercely biting and scratching. It barely clicked that she was actually making contact and drawing blood. She could taste it in her mouth and feel her nails raking down any exposed skin.

  The bloodthirsty surge of anger disappeared as quickly as it began the moment something blunt contacted her skull, causing her to slide onto the ground boneless, close to where Jack lay bleeding.

  She heard him shout her name before everything went black.

  Chapter Seven

  The past few days were a blur of dread and anxiety for Rourke. He’d arrived in Denver and had kept his cool as he spoke with Archibald Gordon. He’d been afraid that he would lose his temper or come unhinged at the slightest inclination that Fallon had married willingly or for love.

  That hadn't been the case.

  Rourke had listened numbly as they informed him that Fallon would not repeat her vows nor was she intent on staying married to the man travelling with her. That had been a relief, and the visit had been enlightening. Apparently Archie had been expecting him and Rourke was almost curious at what the Chicago office had told the director prior to his arrival. A nervous woman fluttered about, as well as several men who were armed to the teeth.

  A calm discussion had revealed that they were given a relatively easy task to restrain some hoodlums south of Denver as an entry into the agency with one of his best agents.

  “I could tell your Fallon wanted to be an agent, but her heart lay elsewhere,” Archie had informed him, making Rourke catch his breath with the sudden burst of hope in his chest. He left quickly, making a beeline for Blackhawk, Colorado immediately. Riding straight through the night, he didn’t stop at all and arrived late the next day completely bedraggled. He hadn't even paid attention to the location nor what was around him. He was focused on reaching Fallon, getting food, and finding shelter so he could sleep at some point… not necessarily in that exact order either. As he rode into town, he saw a hotel nearby and immediately headed for the desk to request a room.

  “I’ll be needing a room for the evening.”

  A man pushed past him, clutching his thigh and his face was pale. The alarmed and determined look on his face made Rourke hesitate. There was an edge of desperation to him that caused everyone who saw him to take pause.

  “I need a needle and thread.”

  “Are ye’ okay?” Rourke asked quietly, seeing him stagger.

  “Do I look okay?”

  “No, you look like you’ve been skewered.”

  “That’d be accurate,” he snapped, looking back at the desk clerk. “I need a bottle of whiskey too and my new friend needs a medal for stating the obvious.”

  “Quiet there boy-o or I’ll be shanking the other leg yer standing upon out of spite.”

  “You’ve got the same snarky attitude and accent as my wife.”

  It was almost comical to see the realization in their faces at the same time. Horrified, Rourke looked around for Fallon. When he didn’t see her, he went for the man’s throat, slamming him into the wall. Hands pulled at his arms as he wrapped his hands around his throat. He’d kill him if something happened to Fallon.

  “Where’s my gel? Where’s my Fallon?” he gritted out behind his teeth. A bright, bloody hand pushed painfully against his face as the other man tried to free himself. Rourke looked down and saw that the wound was from a knife and looked like it wasn’t that old. It was still pulsing and needed to be closed. Looking away from the man who was turning bluish, he looked for the clerk.

  “Is there a black-haired lovely filly staying here with this curmudgeon?”

  “His wife?”

  “I guess in a way, yes.”

  “Sir, you need to let him go before he passes out.”

  “We… need… to… get… her,” the man wheezed.

  Rourke dropped him and saw that the man was actually a pretty good size, reminding him of Cade. He’d never b
een one to back down from a fight, but he had to find out where his beloved was.

  “Whiskey… and where’s the stove or kitchen,” Rourke said tightly.

  “This way,” the clerk stammered nervously. He grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him limping along beside him.

  “Talk,” Rourke bit out tightly. “What’s your name and where’s she at?”

  Both men turned to look at the clerk who scuttled away immediately, leaving them alone. Rourke put a poker into the hearth and looked at the other man. His lips looked grim as he nodded. They needed to stop the bleeding and head out soon.

  “I’m Jack Gaines. Some outlaws took Fallon as security when they escaped,” Jack said tightly, taking a hefty swig from the bottle of alcohol and pouring a bit on his leg. The only inclination that it hurt was a wince and Rourke's eyebrows shot upward in surprise. He knew that had to hurt something fierce.

  “So you wouldn’t follow?”

  “Oh, I’m following them all right,” Jack snapped, putting pressure on his leg again. “Don’t know if you noticed yet or not, but I’ve got a bit of an injury from an enthusiastic black-haired witch with my lucky knife.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t aim a little higher, or that I didn’t finish what I started. Yer not ta’ touch my girl,” Rourke growled. Jack suddenly laughed, making him see red.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Jack said placatingly, “she’s only got eyes for you anyhow. We were looking around when we got caught in an alleyway by the men we were investigating. I think they are looking for a way to derail a train or cause it to stop mid-route.”

  Rourke pulled the poker from the fireplace and slowly turned, holding it in front of him. He met Jack’s eyes and saw the other man nod. Without a word, Jack took another healthy swig from the bottle and poured it on the wound again.

  “This will hurt,” Rourke warned.

  “I kissed her,” Jack admitted flatly, staring at him.

  Rourke met his eyes and felt an icy grip on his soul. This man he knew was taunting him, but the idea of someone else kissing his lovely lass made him angrier than he’d ever been. It took a moment for him to process the reason he was telling him. Jack wanted to leave to find Fallon and needed Rourke to hurry with the poker to cauterize the wound.

  “I might just enjoy this then,” Rourke said knowingly, nodding at the man who acknowledged it with his own tight nod. The poker gleamed bright red between them and you could feel the heat coming off of it. Jack took another gulp of whiskey and smiled at him.

  “I thought you might.”

  Fallon awoke slumped over the backside of a horse. Every step pushed the air from her lungs. They’d bound her wrists and feet, with a rough bag over her head. She could smell a mustiness from the inside of the bag and realized that they had used it for oats or something at some point. The dust in the bag made her sneeze, causing her ribs to contract painfully against the horse’s rump and a moan escaped her. Her head pounded… matching the ache in her ribs, her wrists, her ankles, and her very soul.

  Her life was full of screwups and mistakes. Nothing was going right, and it seemed like no matter the direction, it was wrong. She’d left Pennsylvania for Chicago, fled to Denver, ended up married to someone halfway decent on a good day, and then this!

  She’d stabbed Jack.

  How was she ever going to go back to Denver? No one would want to match up with an agent that stabbed her partner in the middle of a fight.

  Was Jack okay?

  Dead?

  Was he lying there in the alleyway still… bleeding to death slowly?

  She wasn’t even sure where she had stabbed him, because of the darkness and the shadows. Hot tears of shame and regret burned through her. She’d messed up everything in her life that was remotely good.

  Rourke would never want her back at this point. She’d been married to another man for almost three weeks now. He would most certainly think the worst had happened. If he’d hesitated at marrying her before… he would never do it now! She had been a naïve fool to think otherwise.

  Jack, her new partner and temporary husband, was turning out to be not such a bad guy. Sure, he was annoying and irritating… but he was actually nice if you read between the lines. If she was stuck with someone that wasn’t her choosing, she could have been so much worse off. He was ethical, honest, and protective to a fault. If he wasn’t dead, he certainly wouldn’t trust her after this. She’d stupidly blurted out their identities to the outlaws they’d been chasing. She wasn’t cut out for this and it was obvious.

  Rourke didn’t want to marry her.

  Jack wouldn’t want her back as a partner.

  No one would want her at this rate.

  She had no value or worth to anyone at this point and it hurt her so much. A pathetic sob caused her to breathe in another gust of dust, followed by another hard sneeze. She felt a hand contact her backside, making her jump with fear. She heard a rambunctious laugh from one outlaw as vulgarity spewed from his mouth. They thought it was funny to humiliate her but little did they know, it only served to further fortify her inner strength she needed to correct things.

  If this band of rogues didn’t end up harming her or killing her, she would fight tooth and nail to get a second chance at life again. If she had to start over fresh, she would… but until she had an opportunity to talk with Rourke, she would never know.

  “I just want a second chance,” she whispered in prayer, lacing her fingers and ignoring the pain of her bound wrists. “Please, please, please—I need a second chance to correct some serious mistakes I’ve made. I just want Rourke happy above all… and Jack needs to be with someone who will care for him. It was a mistake to leave Rourke and an even bigger mistake to marry Jack.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You okay? You look a fair bit waxen there,” Rourke asked gently. He might not like Fallon marrying up with a stranger, but this one certainly had mettle. He’d expected the man to scream in pain or pass out from the hot poker against the open wound. Instead, he sat there with his leg extended, unmoving. Jack’s lips were bloodless, and he looked green about the gills, like he was about ready to pass out or throw up… or perhaps both.

  “Gimme a minute,” Jack breathed, clenching the bench. His knuckles were white, and his nostrils flared, moving visibly with each gasping breath. The smell in the room of charred flesh was sickening. Rourke opened the split doorway to allow a breeze in.

  “Do you know which direction they were headed?”

  “The train runs west to east. I’d assume they would follow that line.”

  “But you don’t know,” Rourke said flatly.

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “I canna believe this is happening.”

  “Neither can I,” Jack said, grimacing as he finally stood on his leg. “Your woman has a mean jab to her. If I’d have known, I might not have given her my knife.”

  “You should see her skin a squirrel or deer.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Actually, I’d rather that you didn’t,” Rourke said firmly. “You two will be getting an annulment the moment you get back to Denver. Until then, you won’t leave my sight.”

  “I think maybe we should let Fallon choose what she wants when we get back to Denver,” Jack said with a pale mocking grin. “You never know, she might have changed her mind. After all, she is my wife.”

  “In name only, and I can happily make her a widow.”

  “You’d hang.”

  “Only if they caught me.”

  “Do you think Fallon would be okay with you killing her husband?”

  “Shut yer trap, Gaines, or I’ll shut it for you.”

  “I’m just getting you riled up,” he admitted. “Let’s get going and see if we can find any clues on which direction they took.”

  “Are you going to be able to ride?”

  “Do I have much of a choice?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ro
urke watched Jack as he limped from the back door of the kitchen towards where the livery was. Several stalls were there with horses waiting. Their jaws slowly worked as they chewed with almost a bored expression. They're about ‘ta get some excitement, he thought to himself.

  “We need two of the fastest horses.”

  “These are owned by the guests.”

  Jack and Rourke looked at each other. Rourke felt a flush of shame as Jack pulled out a small badge from his pocket, flashing it to the man.

  “We are Pinkertons and commandeering your two fastest horses, sir,” Jack said sternly and then looked at Rourke, “Where’s your badge?”

  “Chicago.”

  “You didn’t bring it?” Jack gaped, staring at him.

  “You can’t when you quit, now can you?”

  “You actually quit the Pinkertons?”

  “Well, they weren’t too jolly when I said I was planning on killin’ ya!”

  “You are going to murder him?” the stable boy chimed in nervously.

  “NO!” both men shouted, turning back towards him.

  “Are the horses ready?”

  “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  “No, we’ve bigger fish to fry. Thank you for your help.”

  Rourke watched Jack try to lift his leg over the horse. He immediately went over and laced his fingers together, staring at the man pointedly. Jack’s face flushed red with embarrassment as he grabbed the pommel of the saddle and put his boot up in Rourke’s hands, using it to mount the horse. Once Jack was seated, Rourke looked up at him and saw he’d turned green again.

  “You all right?”

  “Let’s just get going,” Jack hissed, “I don’t want to throw up in front of anyone or on my leg. I’d rather be in the clear of everything and on our way.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Rourke quickly mounted his horse and followed Jack out into the streets. It had taken enough time to stop the bleeding and the last thing he wanted to do was actually like the man that Fallon had married. Each minute, his level of respect for the man grew and grew as they rode on. As they got closer to the train tracks, they slowed their horses.