Another flush rose to her face, and she shifted, but didn’t let go of his hands. “I—I don’t trust easily. You have to understand. I trusted my father to take care of me, but he lost all his money on a poor investment when I was a child. Mother was so distraught she took to her bed and was mostly absent from my childhood for years.
“I couldn’t trust my father or mother to take care of me. I always felt I had to take care of myself, even with my parents there. But that tiny bit of security vanished when they died and I turned to Louis.”
He sat back on his heels. “All right, let’s start with Louis—your husband.”
“Yes.” Her whisper was barely perceptible, carried away on the wind.
“You ran away from him.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
He watched her beautiful face as various emotions played over it. She looked so lost, so fragile. He gave her a few minutes to compose herself, but eventually took control. “Honey, your friend Helen told me that something, or someone, frightened you right before you disappeared from the Harvey House that night. Was she right?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Louis came for me. I—I never expected—well, actually I did think he would one day find me, but—it was all so unexpected when it actually happened.” She fumbled in her jacket pocket and withdrew a handkerchief that she wiped her eyes with and then began to twist in her fingers. “He—he was just sitting there. At one of my tables. Like—like he’d done it any number of times.” She shuddered. “And then he smiled.”
“Why does he frighten you? Or better yet, is that why you ran away?”
She nodded and one tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “Not just that, although some of the beatings have been particularly bad.”
He jerked as if pulled from behind and a surge of anger washed over him like the waves from the Gulf behind them crashing on the shore. He clenched and unclenched his hands and had to take several deep breaths to calm himself. The thought of this fragile, delicate flower being hit by a man’s fist had his stomach roiling. Any woman being struck bothered him, but Emily—his wonderful Emily—made him sick.
But then she wasn’t his. Not yet.
“What else, sweetheart?”
“He—he has me spying on people, looking for ways for him to threaten them, those who have invested money with his business. It’s all very shady, and I really hate doing it. I just had to get away.”
“What sort of a business does he have?”
“He and his partner, Greg Sanders, have an investment company. They take people’s money and invest it for them. Except they don’t really invest much of it. From what I’ve learned over the three years we’ve been married is he takes a large portion of their investment for his ‘fees’ and when they want a return on their money, he pays them with the money from new investors. He acquires the new investors by promising a large percentage of profits. More than anyone else offers.”
“That’s illegal.”
“I figured as much.”
If the man were caught, he would end up in prison. But that wouldn’t free Emily. Which brought another question to mind. “I chased you down to Galveston because I wanted to make sure you were all right. When you left unexpectedly I was scared, and then angry.” He held up his hand as she started to speak. “Yes, I was angry with you at first, but once I discovered you had been coerced into leaving, I knew I would not rest until I found you. To learn who you really were, what you were running from, and . . . where I stand in all of this.”
She stared out over the expansion of the Gulf. Waves broke on the shore, one after another, leaving behind clumps of seaweed and bits of jellyfish. The scene calmed her, along with having Hunter near.
Where I stand in all of this.
A fair question. Before Louis, when she still had some faith and trust, Hunter would be the man she would want standing right next to her for the rest of her life. But in reality she had a husband who would never let her go.
And what if she were free? Was she really stupid enough to trust a man once again? She’d been let down twice before. Did she have to keep repeating her mistakes over and over?
Gathering her thoughts, she stared into the eyes she’d dreamt about for weeks. Deep hazel, with flecks of brown. Her gaze wandered over his face, broad forehead with locks of light brown hair always falling over it. Thick eyelashes, straight nose, and a strong chin right below full lips that had kissed her in a way she’d never been kissed before.
She could care a great deal for him, but she would forever hold her heart back, saving a part of herself that would always be cautious, always waiting to be let down again.
“I don’t want to be hurt and used anymore. I don’t want to be afraid all the time. I don’t want to be watched like I’m a criminal.” She bent her head. “I want to be free,” she whispered.
“And?”
She chewed her lip, not sure how her words would be received, but at the same time determined to take that leap. Slowly she let out a deep breath. “I don’t know what my feelings are, they’re still too new, too wrapped up in deceit and wishful thinking. What I know at this point is I am not as anxious to run away from my life as I am to run toward something better.” She ran her finger down his cheek.
Hunter closed his eyes and lowered his head. “That’s enough for now. My feelings are also muddled, but know this.” He stood and held out his hand. “No matter what happens between us, I will not leave you here. When I return to Guthrie, you will be with me.”
Emily took his hand and rose, brushing the back of her dress. He drew her into his arms and kissed her lightly, a mere brush of his lips over hers, but enough to set her insides to fluttering.
“How much time do we have?”
“My appointments generally run about two hours. I don’t think Martin would come into the shop to look for me unless I was gone longer than that.”
“You really are watched, aren’t you?”
“Every minute of every day. Even my maid reports to Louis.”
“I’ve always thought maids were a lady’s biggest champions. They were the ones who passed secret notes to lovers and unlocked the doors at night to allow their lady to enter after a tryst.”
“Hunter! You’ve been reading romance novels.” She grinned as he tucked her arm into his and they began to walk along the shoreline.
“One of my friends in the Rangers has two sisters who were voracious romance readers. They particularly liked Miss Austen’s books. When we would stop into his family’s home once in a while, they would talk about their stories endlessly. Much to my friend’s annoyance. I sometimes think they did that to punish him for not coming home more often.”
“How often did you stop into your family home?”
She felt him stiffen under her arm. “Not much.”
When it appeared he had no intention of continuing, she asked, “Any particular reason why not?”
“I love my family, and my aunt and uncle were very good to me. To all of us. But for reasons I’ve yet to come to grips with, there was always something standing between me and the rest of them.”
“Yet you were comfortable enough to return home when you were injured.”
He nodded. “Yes. For better or worse, home is always that. Home.” He pulled his timepiece out and grimaced. “I’d better return you.”
As if a cloud had passed over the sun, her world immediately dimmed. She came to an abrupt halt. “No.”
He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Let’s run away. Now.” Her breathing picked up and she tugged on his sleeve. “Please?”
“Oh, honey.” He pulled her into his arms. “There is nothing more I want to do than take you away from here, away from that monster.” He placed his hands on her shoulders a
nd moved her back. “We will definitely leave. But we need time, we have to make plans. By law he has the right to bring you back, no matter how many times you run. We have to make sure he either won’t—or can’t—come after you.”
Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the horizon. “How will we do that?”
“I have to do some investigation. What Louis is doing is illegal. I’ll also ask Uncle Jesse to search the law on investment firms, stock market regulations, abusive husbands, and . . .”
“What?”
He brushed the hair from her eyes. “Divorce.”
“Oh.”
Divorce. What a scandal that would be. Nice people didn’t get divorced. In fact, she’d never known anyone who had. If she were able to get a divorce, would she do it? Barely two seconds passed before she knew her answer would be yes. She could be legally free of Louis and able to make her own decisions. Not answerable to anyone.
Once more Hunter gathered her in his arms and climbed the boulders to the street. He set her down and took both of her hands. “We have time. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere without you. And I will be watching to make sure all is right.”
Two days later, after mailing letters to his friend, Texas Rangers investigator Jeremy Steele, and to Uncle Jesse, Hunter stopped into the local café for breakfast. The restaurant seemed to be doing a brisk business—a sure sign the food was good. He ordered biscuits, eggs, and sausage and opened the local newspaper as he sipped his coffee.
He skimmed the articles, most of them about local events and people. As he folded the paper in half, an ad caught his eye. Well, well. Smith and Sanders were looking for new clients.
We will protect your money and make it grow. Stop in and see us today!
His bank account was quite healthy, he could afford to put a little bit of money into play at Smith and Sanders to see what they were up to. Once he finished his breakfast, he might take a little stroll to the offices at—he checked the address—407 Tremont Street. He smiled brightly when the waitress placed his food in front of him.
Galveston, Texas was a busy, bustling town. Profitable businesses lined the downtown area. Shoppers strolled from store to store, enjoying the sunshine and cool ocean breeze. Young mothers had little ones in tow, and the streets were congested with a mix of automobiles, horses, and carriages. Neither mode of transportation displayed much patience with the other.
The beauty of the day called for a leisurely stroll. He tipped his hat to ladies and nodded at the gentlemen. A short trip into the pharmacy resulted in a pocket full of lemon drops.
When he’d escorted Emily back to the dressmaker’s shop yesterday, he immediately drove his horse and carriage to the front of the building. He breathed a sigh of relief when Emily appeared and climbed into the Ford Model K. The relief had soon turned to anger when he thought about what she faced when she returned home.
He’d immediately headed to his room at the boardinghouse and wrote the letters. Jeremy was a top notch investigator, and they’d worked together for years. If anyone could get information that would put Louis Smith behind bars, it was Jeremy.
The letter to Jesse was more difficult to write. The questions he had about the stock market and investment firms were easy, but he could almost see the raised eyebrows when he got to the word divorce. Nevertheless, his uncle was the man who could help them with that part of the problem.
Hunter stopped and glanced at the sign hanging over 407 Tremont Street. Smith and Sanders, Investors. He pushed open the door and climbed the wooden stairs to the second level. It was an older building, needing some maintenance. The stairs creaked, and the carpet in the hallway leading to the offices was threadbare.
He opened the wooden door with the Smith and Sanders logo painted in black and gold ink on the glass. A young woman sat at a desk, her hair in the Gibson Girl style, her high necked blouse with no adornments except for a timepiece pinned to her chest.
If the building was in poor shape, Smith had spared no expense on his office. A thick carpet covered the floor, and striped green and rose silk wallpaper gave the area more of a parlor feel than a business office. All the furniture appeared to be brand new and imported.
“May I help you?” The secretary looked up from her Underwood typewriter, her spectacles resting low on her nose.
“Yes. I would like to speak with one of the partners about investing money. Mr. Smith, actually, if he is available. An acquaintance referred me to him.”
“Your name?”
He hesitated. “Hunter Henderson.” No point in using a fictitious name. Things were easier when you didn’t have to remember a lot of lies.
“I think Mr. Smith is in. If you will take a seat, I will check for you.”
Hunter grinned to himself, since the office was very small and there were only two other doors. Perhaps Mr. Smith would have to be awakened from his nap, or maybe he wanted to give the impression of a man busy with manipulating investments. He picked up a recent copy of Life magazine, and flipped through the pages.
The woman returned to her desk. “He will be right with you.”
After a few minutes, the office door opened and a man strode through. “Mr. Henderson?”
Hunter had twisted to place the magazine back on the table. With a smile, he turned back and stuck out his hand. “Yes.”
His heart immediately slammed into his ribs and his breath caught. When black dots danced in front of his eyes, he actually thought he would pass out.
For the first time in eighteen years he stared into the face of his father’s killer.
Chapter 10
Austin, Texas
Texas Ranger, Jeremy Steele blinked several times as he peered at the white envelope with the Galveston, Texas postmark. He slid his finger under the flap, then pulled the letter out. He yawned and wiped his nose on his sleeve, finding it hard to focus on the words. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but unable to concentrate, dropped the letter on the small rickety table covered with dirty dishes and grabbed his jacket. The druggist had promised him a new shipment of morphine would arrive this morning.
He had to get his hands on some before his brain exploded.
Jeremy barreled down the stairs, wincing as the daylight hit him square in the face when he yanked the door open. He pulled the collar of his jacket up to cover his ears and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His palms sweated and he gripped his stomach as the cramps started.
The three-block trek seemed interminable. Not raising his eyes as he walked, he had a couple of close calls almost running into people. Idiots. They should be home or at work.
At last he reached his destination, stretching out a shaky hand to pull open the door to the pharmacy with McGirk’s Drug Emporium painted on it. He nodded to Lenny, the druggist, and headed toward the back of the store. Within minutes, the pharmacist shoved aside the curtain separating the pharmacy from the storage area and almost ran into a pacing Jeremy.
“You’re developing a problem here, Steele.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my problem, not yours. Just give me the drug.”
“I’ve been reading reports, and someday soon the government’s going to regulate this stuff.” He handed a needle to Jeremy. “You should try to get off it. It’s ruining your health.”
Jeremy snorted and fumbled as he tried to manipulate the needle. “Help me out here.”
Lenny shook his head, then took the implement from Jeremy’s hand and injected the drug. “You know just last year the American Medical Association said heroin was a good replacement for morphine. You should think about switching.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. What do I owe you?”
“How much you taking with you?”
“I’m leaving town, I’ll take whatever you have.”
Lenny let out a low whistle an
d rattled off a figure as he handed Jeremy a box. “You must be spending every dime you earn with them Rangers on this.”
Jeremy threw a wad of bills on the table and grabbed the box from Lenny’s hands. “It’s my money.” He shoved the curtain aside and left the store.
By two o’clock that afternoon, he’d cleaned up, forced some food down, and packed the few belongings he had scattered around his rented room. Henderson’s letter had been puzzling, but indicated he needed Jeremy to do some investigation.
His assignments with the Rangers had been fewer and fewer as word spread that he liked his morphine. His savings just about depleted, an offer of work from Henderson came at the right time. As a friend, he’d have liked to help him without charge, but a man needed money to live, so he would have to take Henderson up on his offer to pay him for his work.
Jeremy took one last glance around the room and lifted his satchel. Patting the bag to make sure the box he’d bought from the pharmacy was tucked inside, he closed the door and jogged down the stairs and out onto the street. He glanced at the gloomy sky, glad to be leaving Austin and heading to Galveston’s fresh sea air. Things would be better there. He probably wouldn’t need the drugs as much.
Galveston, Texas
Hunter never remembered what he’d said to Louis Smith or how he’d gotten out of the man’s office and all the way back to his boardinghouse. As he’d stood staring at the murderer, the blood pounding in his head had blocked his hearing. Only his well-honed sense of survival had kept him from reaching for the man’s throat and squeezing until he dropped to the floor like a rock.
Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) Page 9