An Agent for Delilah

by Kate Marie Clark

  “Marrying us?” There was no mistaking the anger that dripped from her words. “Convenient that you forgot to mention as much before I travelled the country and spent my entire savings on a suitable dress, Mr. Gordon.”

  “Now, now,” Jack interjected, “the way I understand it, Archie paid your way here, and he’ll keep paying your way if you can submit to the conditions.”

  Archie sat at his desk and leaned toward the disgruntled girl. “Perhaps this will calm your concerns, my dear. The marriage can easily be annulled after the duration of your assigned partnership, should you wish it.”

  Delilah stood, scooting away from Jack as if he were a contagious disease. “Should I wish it? I just spent the last ten minutes trying to convince your agents that I was a formidable opponent. Now you say I’ll be marrying one of them?”

  Jack took his shot-up hat from the chair post. “I don’t bite, not unless provoked. If you’d rather take your chances with one of the other agents, I don’t blame you.”

  “Come to think of it, the two of you would make a swell partnership.” Archie moved to his desk and flipped through his list of cases. “Miss Fulmer’s aim and agility would pair nicely with your skillset, Jack. What do you say?”

  Jack chewed the inside of his cheek. If he had to train a lady agent—and he did—it might as well be one that had abilities. “I’ll take her.”

  Delilah gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

  “That,” Jack said, slipping from the room. “is precisely what I am.”

  He shut the door before she could respond and let out a low chuckle.

  At thirty-five, Jack had hoped for a subdued and gentle partner—one he could mold into a respectable clandestine operative. Yet, something about Miss Fulmer brought a smile to his cheeks.

  Chapter 2

  “You’re lucky you know which one you’ll be marrying,” Alexandra said. Her dark eyes and hair were a vision of loveliness—the type that made Delilah sick with jealousy.

  Alexandra, the fellow new hire, had hardly slept a wink, tossing and turning the entire night. Delilah held back a yawn. She only witnessed Alexandra’s restlessness because of her own sleepless night. Delilah wasn’t the type to daydream about romance and weddings, but when she had considered such things, she never imagined the scene before her.

  Six male agents formed a line at Archie’s side. By their expressions alone, Delilah sensed they dreaded the upcoming event as much as the women. Richard’s characteristic smile was absent; Tucker scowled and folded his arms like a child dragged to the line against his will; Augustus Highwater, the English man that wore mutton chops, held a blank stare; Griff Picard looked ill; another’s cheeks were red from holding his breath.

  And then there was Jack—Delilah’s future partner and temporary husband. He leaned against his left leg, tapping at his pocket watch. Either he was anxious to meet his wife or anxious for the wedding business to be over.

  Delilah cleared her throat and turned to Alexandra. “I’m not sure knowing makes a difference. Jack Davis is as much a stranger to me as the others are to you.”

  Alexandra sighed. “I hope we aren’t making a mistake.”

  They most certainly were. Delilah shrugged. Her life had felt like a sequence of one misstep after another, starting at birth—when her mother died. Maybe Delilah was cursed. She never did well in school. She struggled with conversing with other girls, most likely because she was raised by hooligan brothers. Men rarely expressed interest, and if they did, they weren’t the type any honest woman would accept.

  Becoming an agent offered a silver lining. Delilah was suited to the lifestyle; she could carry on as she always did without the ever-pressing expectation that she marry and start a family. Delilah would be free… at least for a while, long enough to acquire some savings.

  “Miss Fulmer?” Mr. Gordon said, stepping closer. “Will you take your place by Mr. Davis?”

  Jack stepped forward and offered his arm. He couldn’t have looked less excited if he tried. He chewed the inside of his cheek and stared into the distance, as if some daydream was more important than his pending marriage. He was one of the oldest agents. Delilah had been stuck with an irredeemable bachelor.

  Delilah placed her hand atop his arm, and he led her back to his place in the line.

  She studied his profile. He wasn’t unattractive. In fact, Jack’s presence in itself was quite impressive. He managed to disappear when he wished, as evident by their first meeting; she hadn’t noticed him huddled over the cards. But when he stood at full height, Jack’s tall and muscular frame was enough to crush any semblance of composure.

  He appeared to be the opposite of Delilah. Tall, powerful, strong, unaffected, collected, serious. In fact, just knowing she was to marry, even for the sake of a formality, brought unspeakable anxiety. Her palms threatened to sweat through her gloves. He heart hammered against her chest, and her lips pressed into a line. She was speechless, a rare occurrence.

  She hadn’t had a good chance to survey the face of her future husband. Beside the fact that he was over a foot and a half taller than her, Jack was always wearing that hat, and she hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the three times she’d seen him—their meeting, once in passing on application day, and now, their wedding.

  Why was she worried about what Jack Davis looked like? He was her trainer, nothing more. Surely Delilah was mature enough to drop the girlish notions—ones she hadn’t known she had—and accept the fact. The marriage wasn’t real. Jack Davis wasn’t her husband, and she’d consider the arrangement a success if they didn’t kill each other.

  “I do.” Jack’s voice was deep. He swallowed and the muscle along his jaw rose.

  She groaned, covering her mouth when she realized it. They were already at the vows.

  Mr. Gordon paused, staring her down. His voice cracked. “Do you, Miss Delilah Fulmer take Mr. Jack Davis to be your husband?”

  Oh dear. Another groan sat on the tip of her tongue. She licked her lips. “I reckon so, at least for a case or two.”

  Jack’s lips tugged, but he otherwise maintained his bored expression.

  “Pardon?” Mr. Gordon’s eyes widened. “Do you or don’t you?”

  She bit her tongue. The whole situation was ridiculous. She’d signed up for the agency to be a detective, not a silly housewife. She forced a smile. “I do.”

  Mr. Gordon moved down the line to the next couple, apparently satisfied by Delilah’s answer.

  “Isn’t it every woman’s dream to be hitched?” Jack whispered.

  Delilah scoffed. “Maybe some, but certainly not mine.”

  He dipped his chin, still avoiding looking at her. Delilah ran a hand through her curls. Had she done something wrong in her attempts to look like a true lady? Was she that unattractive? Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  He leaned closer. “I hope you realize what you signed up for.”

  She rolled her eyes. There was no way she was even responding to him.

  Mr. Gordon reached the end of the line and returned to the front of the room. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce each respective couple, husband and wife. If you’re so inclined, gentlemen, you may kiss your bride.”

  Delilah’s lips spread in disbelief. That wasn’t part of the deal.

  Jack turned to face her. A mischievous glint lit his green eyes, and he set his hands at her shoulders. “You know—”

  Oh no, he wouldn’t. She rolled her fingers into a fist, and with all the force her tiny body could muster, knocked him square in the jaw.

  Jack reeled backward, just as a few of the other couples caught wind of Delilah’s nasty right hook. His jaw was red where she struck him, and he brushed his hand across his cheek. “Got myself a feisty one.”

  A few laughed, but Delilah lifted her fist to her chest once more, daring Jack to make another step closer. “If you ever try to kiss me again, I’ll aim for your nose.”

  He shook his head, and his lips lifted on one side. “
All high and mighty. I wasn’t going to kiss you; I wouldn’t dream of it. You can rest your mind about that. Now, kindly put your fist down. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a touch larger and stronger.”

  He wouldn’t. A man that hit a woman was worse than a criminal. Delilah gritted her teeth. She wanted to slug him once more for good measure. She considered marching out the door and never returning. No amount of freedom was worth being strapped to a man. Especially one like this Jack Davis. That was the reverse of independence.

  “Jack.” Mr. Gordon gave a knowing gleam. “Kindly try not to rattle your wife any more than necessary.”

  A few of the men laughed, but the women looked as mortified as Delilah felt.

  Marianne, Mr. Gordon’s secretary, stepped forward. Her red hair was swept up to the top of her head in a charming arrangement. Her lips matched the color of her hair. Delilah secretly wished she knew how to do such handiwork. Maybe then she would feel like a woman.

  “Mrs. Davis, I have your trunk ready. I’ve fitted you with two new gowns and accessories to go with it.” Marianne smiled. Was that sympathy shining from her gaze?

  Delilah nearly choked on her own saliva. Mrs. Davis. “And my badge?”

  The secretary shook her head, touching Delilah’s shoulder. “I’m afraid your partner—husband, Mr. Davis, will present you with it when he determines you fit for official status as a Pinkerton Detective.”

  Horror knocked against Delilah’s chest. Jack was in charge of awarding her badge? She might as well resign right now. She took a shaky breath and nodded. “And the case?”

  Marianne dropped her hands to the side. “I’ve already briefed Agent Davis. He’ll be giving you the rundown once the wedding business is finished. Judge Hotchkiss is signing the marriage certificates as we speak.”

  When the secretary was past hearing, Delilah turned to Jack. “Well, where is it we’re headed?”

  Jack, who had resumed his blank expression, folded his arms. “We’ll discuss it over tea. I should warn you. There’ll be dirt and dust, none of the conveniences a woman is used to, and—most assuredly—danger.”

  Tracking. Delilah smiled. She’d hoped for an exciting case. “Perfect.”

  He lifted a brow. “You aren’t like most women, Mrs. Davis.”

  She cringed at the way he addressed her. “You have no idea.”

  The case was doomed; he was doomed. Mrs. Delilah Davis. Even the name scratched against his skull like branches on a tin roof. His mama always told him to find a nice woman and settled down. But Delilah didn’t seem the least nice. In fact, he had a small shiner on his lower jaw to prove it. That woman had the size of a squirrel but the punch of a bear.

  The afternoon light peeked through the only window of the dining room, casting shadows below each curved leg of the chandelier above them. Archie was a stickler about costs. He didn’t like them using the electricity until sundown.

  Jack glanced down at his new partner and wife, seated across from him. She held a teacup in one hand, glancing around the room. Pearl, the agency cook, had insisted upon bringing dessert with the tea. Delilah had eaten hers before Jack had even taken a whiff of the frosted banana cake.

  Jack swallowed a smile with his swig of tea. She was a curious thing—pretty as all get out. “How old are you anyway?” he asked.

  She swallowed the last of her cake. “Old enough.”

  He sucked in a breath. This was going to be more difficult than he imagined. Her spirited ways were already weighing on him. “Look, I don’t wish to be tethered to anyone. Same as you. But, I’ve got my orders. I’m to train you. Now, we can try to get along, or I can make this painful.” He leaned his elbows against the long table and waited until she met his gaze. “How old are you?”

  Her eyes reminded him of shards of glass—differing shades of blue cutting out from her pupils. One glance in her eyes, and a person would catch wind of her spirited nature. Jack would have to find a way to mask that. Or at least try.

  Delilah’s brows drew down. “Twenty-two. I’m no child, and I won’t tolerate being treated as such.”

  That was rich coming from the woman that had just punched him. “Then I’ll be treating you like any other agent I have trained. Now, you’ll refrain from pulling a punch. You’ll answer when spoken to. I command, you obey. Understand, agent?” Jack paused, straightening in the chair. “You won’t be charging any man or woman, unless I give the word. You won’t do nothing unless I tell you. Got it?”

  She folded her arms, but her expression softened. She dipped her chin in resignation. “I only want an honest opportunity for that badge.”

  What kind of life carved such a hardened woman, especially so young? Jack had sisters her age, and they were giggles and curtsies—nothing like the storm before him. He cleared his throat. “Right then. Let’s talk about the case. We’re after a Charles Brooks. He’s known to most out here as Gunner Brooks. He’s got a gang that’s been hopping towns, robbing banks and the like.”

  “And the client?” she asked, suddenly eager.

  “The Governor of the Colorado Territories. Brooks emptied the bank that held most of his gold. Besides the risk that the criminal poses for the rest of the good people, the governor is especially set upon his capture and the restoration—”

  “Of his funds.” Delilah’s lips stretched into a smile. She set her teacup to the saucer, clinking the porcelain together. “And how many are there in his gang?”

  Jack shrugged. “Rumor has it that Brooks travels in a posse of fifteen.”

  Her jaw dropped. She pushed the saucer to the center of the table and pressed her palms to the table. “Fifteen? That sounds steep, Davis.”

  “These cases always are. Now, good news is that most of the men aren’t always at his side. Brooks has got men in transport, men that infiltrate his target treasures, men that act as bodyguards, men that tend the stash. So, I figure five at most in one particular meeting.”

  “We’ll have our work cut out for us. What’s the plan?”

  Jack looked at the file in front of him once more. “I figure this will be a clandestine operation. Perhaps a sting. Once we know their general location, we’ll set up house in the nearest city, spread word of our wealth, especially that of your extensive jewelry collection. A man like Brooks won’t be able to handle the temptation. Besides, he’ll consider the feat nothing compared to those big-time bank robberies.”

  Her complexion ran impossibly whiter. She groaned. “I’m fine for shooting and catching and scaling roofs, but playing my part in that story sounds near impossible. I’ve never as much as seen fine jewelry, let alone been the type to wear it.”

  “There isn’t much to pretending. I’ll take the lead. You follow. With a fancy dress and hat, no one will question your legitimacy. Besides, I gather you’ve got something to prove. That’ll do more for you than most. Now, let’s talk to Marianne about disguise.” Jack stood, tucking the file in his arm. “She’s got all sorts of trunks upstairs.”

  Delilah chewed on one of her nails, shaking her head slowly. Her lips formed a frown.

  “Mrs. Davis?”

  She pushed back, and her chair scraped against the floor. “You can call me Delilah. I don’t take to any name with Mrs. in front of it.”

  “That’s sure a mouthful.”

  She took a moment to consider his words, puckering her lips to one side. “Then kindly refrain from addressing me at all.”

  Jack grinned, and laughter spilt from his mouth. “Back to high and mighty now, are we? Don’t forget; I never tried to kiss you. But I’ve got a swollen jaw thanks to your tendency to jump to conclusions.”

  She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “A woman can never be too careful.”

  “Come on.” Jack motioned for her to follow. Just when he’d thought he was making progress, Delilah had to revert to her childish ways. “Let’s see if we can transform you into one of them women you speak of.”

  She scowled.

  Jack’
s muscles inadvertently tightened. He cracked his knuckles and sighed. This was a challenge he’d rise to…if it killed him.

  Chapter 3

  Perhaps training a woman wouldn’t be all bad. The edges of Jack’s lips tugged, but he battled the urge to smile. Delilah amused him. But if he were to ever let her know, he had an inkling he’d receive another jab to the jaw. Or worse, a mouthful of rebuke. Jack didn’t like the idea of either.

  She was attempting her part marvelously. She sat on the bench, surveying the train station with apparent curiosity. She wafted her fan after any less-than-hygienic passenger walked by, and she avoided the gaze of each man that looked at her.

  She was either an excellent actress, or she hadn’t received such attention from men. The latter idea was absurd; even Jack, after being punched and smart-mouthed by her, could see Delilah’s beauty. She was striking. She wore the white dress from their first meeting—the one she’d scaled a tree and roof in. The fabric was layered in lace, delicate and simple. And with her hair pinned and tucked so elegantly inside the new wide-brimmed hat, Delilah was a vision of innocence and tenderness. The ideal opposite from how she first appeared, deception at its finest.

  Jack lifted his gaze to the distance and sighed when he spotted their trunks. “Let’s hire a coach and settle in a hotel for the evening. We can talk more then.”

  She followed him to the line of carriages without a single word. Her steps were careful and decidedly slow. The new high-heeled boots must have altered her gait. Jack slowed to her pace and offered his arm.

  “In need of a carriage?” a man with an unusually large nose asked. The little hair he had was slicked to one side, but Jack couldn’t decipher whether pomade or sweat held the hairs in place. The man was in desperate need of a shower. “Allow me. I’ll take you anywhere you’d like, as far as Cheyenne.”

  Jack wanted to protest. This driver wasn’t the type to help their wealthy reputation along, but only two carriages remained, and another couple was currently climbing into the first. “A ride to town will do.” Jack removed his hat and held out his hand. “My name is Mr. John Davis.”