Hawk's Prize

by Elaine Barbieri

  Simon’s obvious avoidance of being questioned, the affidavit detailing charges against him, and Charlie Frisk’s testimony that he had seen Simon with Angie shortly before she was killed, had all but convinced Colonel Madison that Simon was guilty of Angie’s murder and of the other crimes he was accused of. Tricia wondered, could Simon also be guilty of Willie’s murder and the attempt on Drew’s life—just because Whit had dealt Simon’s ego a blow?

  That didn’t make sense.

  Her head aching, Tricia raised a delicate hand to her brow. Adding to the weight of those concerns was the fact that she had not heard from Drew throughout the day, and she wasn’t sure when she would see or hear from him again because of the Yankee threat hanging over him. She did not know if he had found Whit as he’d intended, if they were together, what they were doing or where they were going, and her ignorance tormented her.

  And she ached from wanting to be with Drew.

  “Tricia . . .” Tricia looked up at the sound of Chantalle’s voice. She attempted a smile as Chantalle entered the kitchen and said, “We’re closing our doors early tonight. Why don’t you go upstairs now?”

  Tricia smiled. “I need to get some headache powder from Dr. Wesley first.”

  “After what happened this morning, I don’t think going out this time of night is a good idea, Tricia.”

  “You’re worrying unnecessarily, Chantalle.” Tricia attempted a smile. “There’s no reason to fear for my safety.”

  “Still . . .” Chantalle studied the pained frown that marred Tricia’s delicate brow and then said, “If you really need that powder, I’ll ask Will to go with you. You’ll be safe with him.”

  Aware that it would be senseless to disagree, Tricia nodded. “All right. Thank you. I’ll get ready to go right now.”

  Catching up with her outside the kitchen as the lights of the house began going dark, Chantalle said softly, “I hope you understand, dear. I can’t take chances with anyone’s safety after what happened, most especially someone as dear to me as you are.”

  Unable to reply, Tricia hugged Chantalle tightly, and then headed for her room.

  Drew unlocked the door to his room at the Chalfonte and waited until Whit followed him inside before pushing it closed behind him. He lit the lamp and then turned to stare at his brother in wordless frustration.

  “You don’t have to say it.” Whit threw his hat onto the nearby dresser and started unbuckling his gunbelt. “It’s been a damned aggravating day.”

  Drew did not bother to concur. He had come to the Chalfonte to tell Whit about Angie’s death earlier that morning and they had gone to Gault’s office at the docks. They had drawn back when they saw groups gathered on the dock outside the Gault building and had seen Colonel Madison’s men exit the office. It hadn’t taken Whit and Drew long to discover that Colonel Madison’s men had found a drunk sleeping behind the bordello when they went to investigate the murder, and that the man had seen Gault in the woods with Angie just before her murder. The fact that Gault was nowhere to be found when the military was dispatched to take him in for questioning—although he had been seen safe and sound earlier that morning—proved his guilt in the eyes of bystanders and the military alike.

  Whit and he had then spent the remainder of the day canvassing the docks for information that might help them find Gault on their own, or that might help them discover a reason why Gault would have ordered the attempt on Drew’s life. The effort had been a waste of precious time.

  Drew glanced out the window at the darkness beyond, and his frown deepened.

  “What are you thinking about, Drew?” Although separated for years, Whit and he had fallen back into the easy camaraderie of brothers. They had spent the off hours catching up on their lives, and Whit pressed knowingly, “You’re thinking about Tricia, aren’t you?”

  Drew’s gaze snapped toward him, and Whit gave a short laugh. “I guess that’s my answer.”

  When Drew did not reply, Whit said, “If you’re wondering how I know”—he shrugged—“I guess it’s because I was thinking about Jackie and wishing I could be with her right now.”

  Drew responded, “There’s nothing to stop you from going home, Whit.”

  “Yes, there is.” Sobering, Whit said, “There’s more to all this than meets the eye, and you know it. Gault has an illogical hatred for the Hawk name. He proved that fact the moment he met me, and things went downhill from there. He hated you from the second he saw you, too—which means, to my mind, that nobody who ever bore the Hawk name is safe. That includes Jenna Leigh and Laura Anne. I deserted them once, Drew. I won’t do it again.”

  Drew nodded. He knew what it was to feel the guilt Whit bore. He shared it.

  Whit shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean you need to stay here tonight. Just because I’m missing Jackie, that doesn’t mean you have to miss Tricia, too.”

  “I love her, Whit.”

  Whit went silent. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with emotion as he said, “I know what I’d do, then. I wouldn’t waste my time here in this shabby room if the woman I loved was only a short ride away.”

  Drew considered his brother’s statement. A small smile touching his lips, he grabbed his hat and left the room without speaking a word.

  Tricia mounted the horse that Will held for her and then waited as Will mounted his horse. Their voices echoed toward Simon as he hid in the same wooded area where he had waited for Angie. He listened intently as Tricia told the stable hand that it shouldn’t take her long to get the headache powder from Dr. Wesley, and they’d be back soon.

  They rode off, and Simon sneered. Poor Tricia. She had a headache—but she’d have more than a headache before this night ended.

  Glancing back at Chantalle’s house as the front door opened and the last of her customers exited, Simon raised his brows. So they were closing early—to mourn Angie, no doubt. The bitch didn’t deserve the honor, but the timing worked well for him.

  Making his way silently toward the rear entrance, Simon glanced around him. It would take Tricia at least three-quarters of an hour to get to Dr. Wesley’s office and back. He had time to spare.

  Simon waited. He watched the back windows of the house as they went dark one by one. Reasonably satisfied that the private quarter of the upstairs hallway would be empty and the rest of the house would soon be settled down for the night, Simon picked up the container beside him and approached the rear entrance. The stairway was unusually dark as he ascended toward the second floor, but Simon did not falter. He was accustomed to those stairs.

  He turned the knob on the back door carefully but was surprised to find it locked.

  Of course. He should’ve expected it.

  He searched his pocket for a moment, found his key ring, and inserted an almost forgotten key into the lock. The lock turned easily. He had Angie to thank for getting him that key—a convenience she had provided in the event that Chantalle’s policy of keeping the rear entrance open all night should change.

  Simon snickered. He had to rescind what he had previously thought about Angie. Maybe she had been good for something after all.

  Simon opened the door to the hallway slowly. Empty, it was only dimly lit. Nothing could suit his purposes more.

  Turning toward the private quarter of the house, he slipped down the hallway toward Tricia’s bedroom. He turned the doorknob and then froze at the realization that her door was locked. Recalling Angie’s incidental comment when she had given him the key to the rear door, he inserted the key into the lock on Tricia’s bedroom door. At the sound of a click, he let himself in and locked the door behind him.

  Simon paused to allow his eyes to become fully accustomed to darkness relieved only by the muted glow of a small nightstand lamp. He then searched for a comfortable chair and prepared to wait. Tricia would come back soon, and he had no doubt that Drew Hawk would follow at some point during the night. The bastard wouldn’t be able to stay away from her. When he had them together, he would tak
e the first step in his careful strategy of retribution.

  And before he was done—before he left Galveston for good—his revenge would be complete.

  Grateful to have finally returned home, Tricia climbed the elaborately carved front staircase wearily, and then turned toward her room. Dr. Wesley had been involved in treating an emergency patient in his office when she arrived—a child with a raging fever—and she had been forced to wait longer than she had anticipated to get the powder she had come for. The result was that her head was throbbing. She could not wait to reach the solitude of her bedroom.

  Halting when Chantalle opened her door as she passed, Tricia forced a smile and said, “I’m back, and Will was very patient, Chantalle. You can go to sleep now.”

  Chantalle looked at her assessingly and then said simply, “Call me if you need me.”

  Leaving her with a swift kiss on the cheek, Tricia walked down the hallway toward her room. She unlocked the door and entered, but her relieved sigh became a gasp when the cold muzzle of a gun was jammed against her ribs and a voice whispered, “I was getting tired of waiting for you.”

  Hardly able to breathe, Tricia turned toward Simon. She saw his hideous smile clearly in the dim light and she blinked. A tremor shook her as he asked, “You look surprised. You shouldn’t be. You should’ve realized when you saw what happened to Angie last night that my situation in Galveston was at a turning point. And you certainly should’ve realized that I wouldn’t leave this city without making sure that I settled all my debts first.”

  “Your debts?” Tricia took a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, you wouldn’t. You’re just an innocent bystander in this affair. But you’re also a key piece in the puzzle because you’re so very important to Drew Hawk and Chantalle.”

  “To Drew and Chantalle?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!” All semblance of a smile slipping away, Simon continued heatedly, “Chantalle betrayed me! She used my influence to further herself in Galveston, and then turned against me.”

  “That isn’t the way I heard it.” Unwilling to allow Simon the comfort of that delusion, Tricia replied, “According to Chantalle, she succeeded here in spite of you, although she was unwilling to challenge you at first.”

  “She’s a liar! But even if that were true, it’s her alliance against me with the Hawk men that doomed her.”

  A chill ran down Tricia’s spine as she repeated, “The Hawk men . . .”

  “Whit and Drew.” Simon’s smile returned. “Dear Drew. He’ll be here later, won’t he? How could he not come? You’ve been so generous with your affections. He knows that he can come to you for comfort after the disappointments of the day.”

  “Disappointments—”

  “Do you think I don’t know that Whit and Drew have joined forces against me?” Salivating in his anger, Simon continued, “Do you honestly believe that I don’t know they’ve been asking questions about me . . . that it was they and Jason Dodd who started the inquiries into my past that resulted in an affidavit against me being delivered to the Adjutant General’s Office this morning? But they won’t win. They don’t even stand a chance, and before this night is over, I will have avenged myself against Drew and Chantalle both.”

  When Tricia made a soft sound of protest, Simon hissed, “Be quiet! I admit it is regretful that you will become collateral damage along the way. Under other circumstances, we might have had some rather bright times together.”

  Loathing rippled down Tricia’s spine as she snapped, “Never!”

  His expression changing into a mask of pure hatred, Simon replied, “No, you’d rather lie in the arms of Drew Hawk! And that, my dear harlot, is the reason you have become my enemy.”

  Incredulous, Tricia managed a single word.

  “Why?”

  “Why? You’re asking why the Hawks are my enemies?” Alerted to a sound in the corridor, Simon said, “Too bad I don’t have time to answer you.”

  He struck out with his gun, and Tricia felt only a sharp burst of pain before darkness overwhelmed her.

  Drew glanced down at the flicker of light underneath Tricia’s bedroom door. The lamp was turned down, indicating that she had retired for the night. His hunger for her—the thought of slipping into bed beside her and drawing her into his arms—was almost overwhelming as he inserted his key into the door lock.

  The house had been unusually dark as he approached and he had entered silently without waking anyone. He was grateful not to have been seen. He did not want to involve anyone in the problems that might follow if he had been seen—most especially Chantalle, who had been more than kind. He had no desire to awaken Tricia, either. He just needed to be near her for a little while, to hold her close so he could reassure himself that in a day filled with frustrations and uncertainty, she was still his.

  Drew turned the key and entered the room. He pushed the door closed behind him. The lamp on the nightstand illuminated the bed where Tricia lay.

  Drew’s breath caught in his throat. Tricia lay atop the coverlet, completely clothed and unmoving. Two steps closer and he saw a bloodied cut on her forehead.

  Gasping, calling out her name, he took another step just as a burst of pain exploded in his skull and he crumpled into oblivion.

  Drew returned to consciousness slowly. His head ached and his body twitched with discomfort. It was difficult to breathe. He attempted to move his arms and legs, but he could not.

  He opened his eyes to the darkness surrounding him—and full consciousness returned abruptly. He was lying on the floor of Tricia’s room. He was gagged and bound hand and foot.

  He glanced at the bed where Tricia lay to see that she was bound and gagged as well. He turned abruptly toward the darkness beside him, ignoring the pounding pain in his head as he strained to make out the figure standing in the shadows.

  Realization twisted tight inside him as Simon stepped into the lamp’s circle of light and said in reply to Drew’s incredulous stare, “Yes, it’s me, Drew—the last person you expected to find here.”

  Struggling against his bonds, Drew raised his voice in muffled rage, and Simon whispered warningly, “Don’t make any sound. It will be just as easy to leave you unconscious as it would be to leave you conscious and fully aware of what I’m going to do.”

  Drew glanced at Tricia, who lay unmoving on the bed, her eyes wide with terror. Stifling his laughter, Simon walked closer to her and said, “How do you like your hero now, Tricia Lee Shepherd? He’s helpless to protect you as he no doubt promised he would. He’s also helpless against me.”

  When Drew and Tricia mumbled heated protests through their gags, Simon snickered. “You’re wondering what I have in mind—or are you still wondering what is motivating me?” Simon paused, obviously enjoying himself as he continued softly, “I don’t have time to explain my motivation, except to say that eradicating everyone who has ever borne the Hawk name is high on my list.”

  When Drew tried to protest, Simon hissed, “Be quiet! I’m not going to warn you again!” In the silence that followed, Simon continued coolly, “You’re wondering what my plans are. That’s simple. I’m going to leave the two of you here just the way you are when I depart. I prefer it that way. It’ll be easier for you both to appreciate what’s happening if you’re conscious. As for what I intend to do next, it’s a surprise, but I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty realizing what it is once I’ve set things into motion.”

  Simon walked toward the door. He paused to pick up the container he had left there and then turned back toward Drew to whisper venomously, “I want you to know that you alone are responsible for Tricia’s death, and that I intend to see to it that every one of your siblings—Whit, Jenna Leigh, and Laura Anne—follows you to your reward in quick succession before I leave Galveston. That is my vow.”

  Taking a moment to draw his emotions under control, Simon whispered, “I’m going to leave now, but I won
’t hold you in suspense very long. That’s a promise, too.”

  Silent and helpless, Drew watched as Simon walked into the hallway and drew the door closed behind him. He glanced at Tricia. In obvious pain, she looked back at him helplessly, and he started struggling fiercely against his bonds.

  His struggles halted at a splashing sound. His eyes widened when the smell of kerosene permeated the room, and then he struggled harder. He had worked his way toward Tricia when he heard an explosion in the hallway outside the door and then smelled the unmistakable scent of smoke.

  Fire!

  Rubbing his gag free on the side of the bed, Drew struck the nightstand hard with his shoulder. The glass water pitcher crashed onto the floor in jagged pieces, and he said raggedly, “Turn your hands toward me, Tricia. Hurry!”

  Smoke began filling the room as he struggled to stand. Coughing, conscious of the flames that flickered underneath the door as sounds of panic on the other side escalated, he began to work a sharp edge of broken glass against the bonds at Tricia’s wrists.

  Losing his balance, he fell to the floor. Tricia’s hands snapped free and she pulled the gag from her mouth as she sat upright and started to untie at the bonds on her feet. Wracked with coughing, she stood up at last, and then fell to her knees beside him to try to untie his bound hands.

  The door burst into flames and the smoke in the room thickened. Tears streamed from Tricia’s eyes, impeding her progress as she struggled to untie him. She faltered as the heat grew unbearable and Drew gasped, “Cut the rope with the broken glass!”

  Tricia was swaying. She was struggling to breathe. Screams echoed from the hallway as the sound of crackling flames grew louder and smoke filled the room.

  “Tricia . . . concentrate. The broken glass . . .”