After last night, her virtue was definitely a bit sullied, Laurel thought, but she still felt strongly that she could set a good example for others. After all, God loved all his children, even the ones who weren’t virgins. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d murdered someone, committed adultery, or blasphemed. She’d merely made love with the man she was totally and passionately in love with.
What could be wrong with that?
* * *
“You know what you’re supposed to do?”
The bearded man nodded, holding out his hand for the rest of the cash. “The deal was for two hundred, Hazen. I want the rest of my money before I do your dirty work.”
“I don’t want any screw-ups, like the other night, you hear? I don’t want anything left behind that can incriminate me.”
Counting out the bills Al handed him, and satisfied that he hadn’t been cheated, Shooter Davis smiled. “There ain’t gonna be any screw-ups. I got my own reasons for getting rid of that little gal. And hurting Rafferty is just an extra bonus, far as I’m concerned. I didn’t much like spending time in jail.”
“You’d best lay low after the deed is done,” Hazen advised. “I’ll be the first person Rafferty suspects, and if he thinks we’re in this together . . .”
The big man scratched his chest, making Hazen wince, for he knew Shooter was infested with lice and God knew what else. Shooter was dirty in every sense of the word, but he was perfect for the job Al had hired him for.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be getting back to my customers.” Hazen swiveled about in his office chair and made to rise.
“Not so fast, Al,” Shooter said, holding up his hand. “Ain’t you forgettin’ something?”
“I don’t think . . .” He paused, remembering the rest of their agreement. “Pearl’s mighty particular about who she beds, Shooter, but I think we can accommodate you.”
Grabbing his crotch, Shooter rubbed himself, eager to plant his dick between Pearl’s silky thighs, just like he’d dreamed of doing a hundred times over. Pearl had teased him, let him suck her tits, but she’d never fucked him, and that was something he wanted even more than Hazen’s two hundred bucks.
She’d promised him a screw if he scared the little blond singer, but then he’d gotten arrested, and she’d never made good on their wager. He aimed to claim his winnings now.
“I want to poke her before I do the deed. Pearl knows how to make a man feel good. And I’m needing to feel good now, Al.”
It had taken quite a bit of persuasion on his part to get Pearl to agree to bed Shooter. But the offer of a permanent seventy-five–twenty-five split was just too much of an incentive for the whore to resist. And Al knew Pearl wasn’t all that particular about who she screwed.
For chrissake! If she did it with a porcelain dildo, she’d do it with just about anything. About the only thing Pearl liked more than a good fuck was a lot of money. Al and she were well matched in that.
“Pearl’s upstairs waiting for you. Get your poke, then get out there and get the job done. I expect results for my money, Shooter. Don’t disappoint me.”
* * *
Laurel wished she could remain engulfed in Chance’s arms forever, but she knew Hortensia would send someone to fetch her if she tarried too long on the porch. It had been difficult enough persuading the woman to allow Chance to escort her to lunch.
“I’ve got to go in, Chance. Hortensia watches me like a hawk.”
“If you’d move back to the Aurora, we wouldn’t have to worry about Mrs. Two-Chins spying on us.”
“Ssh! Someone might hear you.”
He snorted indignantly. “No doubt some old biddy’s got her ear pressed to the door. Why don’t we really give them something to talk about?”
Before she could protest, he captured her mouth, kissing her long and hard. When he finally released her, she looked stunned and well kissed.
“You’re . . . you’re going to get me fired. I told you Hortensia doesn’t like our being together like this.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If I don’t have you in my bed soon, I’m going to go crazy. What the hell do I care what the old blubber-ass says? I want you, angel. I want you now.”
“It’s only been two days since we were . . . together.” Laurel’s throat tightened at the exquisite memory. “And I promised Mrs. Tungsten that we would behave in a more circumspect manner. Kissing on the front porch of the boardinghouse in plain view of the entire town hardly constitutes circumspect behavior.”
“Come back with me to the Aurora, angel. I’ll light a fire and we can lie naked in front of it.” He stroked her cheek. “You know you want to.”
Laurel wanted to more than anything in the world. But just as she felt her resolve begin to weaken the front door opened and Gertie peered out. “Hortensia says she’d like for you to come in now, Laurel.” The look of utter disdain the older woman shot Chance spoke volumes about what she thought of his unsuitable courtship. “It’s rather chilly to be standing outside, don’t you think?”
As hot as she felt at the moment, Laurel thought she could remain outside for days and never feel the effects of the cold. She sighed, “I’ll only be another moment, Gertie.”
There was a loud “Hmph!” then the door closed again, and Laurel gazed up at Chance, her face full of regret. “I’ve got to go in now. Perhaps tomorrow we . . .”
Disappointed, and extremely annoyed at having to take orders from a bunch of frustrated old biddies, Chance shrugged Laurel’s hand off his coat sleeve. “Tomorrow doesn’t always come, angel. Sometimes today is all we ever get.”
Tears of frustration stung Laurel’s eyes as she watched Chance walk away, and she felt like kicking in the front door and Gertie Beecham’s teeth as well.
Being in love was hell, she decided. Being in love with Chance Rafferty was nigh on to impossible.
* * *
“I’ll light a fire and we can lie naked in front of it.”
Chance’s words repeated over and over in Laurel’s subconscious, and she moved fitfully in her sleep. Heat licked at her flesh, making her hot and sweaty.
Suddenly the quilt she lay beneath seemed entirely too heavy, and she kicked off the covers, taking a deep breath of crisp night air to cool herself down.
But the air was hot, and smoke filled her nostrils. Laurel bolted upright, covering her mouth at the sight of orange flames licking against the new draperies Drucilla had hung just two days before.
Fire! The word flashed through her mind. Screaming, “Drucilla!” she turned toward her roommate’s bed. Its coverings were engulfed in flames.
“Oh, my God!” Without a thought for her own safety, Laurel grasped the quilt from her bed and began to beat at the fire eating through Drucilla’s bedding. “Drucilla, wake up!” she shouted, coughing as the smoke burned her lungs.
But Drucilla did not awaken. Fearing the worst, Laurel felt for a pulse at the base of her throat. It was thready and weak, but it was there. “Thank God!” The young woman was still alive: apparently she had only been overcome by the smoke.
Smothering the flames as best she could, Laurel dragged Drucilla’s body off the bed; it hit the floor with a thump. Making her way to the door in the thick, black, smothering smoke was nearly impossible, but Laurel kept moving one foot in front of the other, dragging the dead weight of Drucilla behind her.
Scream, her mind told her. Scream loudly before we both die.
It was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.
* * *
“Oh, thank the good Lord,” Hortensia said when Laurel’s eyelids fluttered open. “She’s coming to. Get some water and a damp rag so I can wash some of this soot off of her,” she told Gertie, who left immediately to do her bidding.
“Am I dead?” Laurel asked in a raspy voice she barely recognized as her own. She certainly felt dead. But she couldn’t be, because she saw Hortensia staring down at her. Hortensia might have a pipeli
ne to God, but Laurel didn’t think it extended all the way up to Heaven.
“No, my dear, you’re not dead. But you did have us terribly worried.”
As memories of the fire flooded back, she asked, “Drucilla?” though the effort to talk proved costly, making her cough several times.
“She’ll be fine, thanks to you. The firemen took her to the hospital. Drucilla was badly burned, but she’ll live, because of your quick thinking.”
Laurel breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the woman had survived. “Is the house badly damaged?” She looked around, noting the familiar surroundings of Hortensia’s office, and felt satisfied that everything appeared in order.
Hortensia shook her head. “Someone on the street noticed the smoke and called the fire department. Only your room was damaged.”
Laurel struggled to sit up. “Was it the wood stove?” Drucilla was forever putting too many pieces of wood in the darn thing.
At the question, a guarded expression crossed the older woman’s face, and Laurel immediately grew suspicious. “It wasn’t the stove, my dear,” Hortensia said, patting Laurel’s hand. “I didn’t want to worry you, since you’re still incapacitated, but it looks as if the fire was deliberately set.”
Shocked, Laurel began coughing again, and it took her a few moments to regain her composure. “The fire was set?”
“I’m afraid we make enemies in our line of work, Laurel. It isn’t the first time some angry saloon owner or frustrated alcoholic has decided to take revenge on us.”
An angry saloon owner . . . Al Hazen, she concluded. Only he could be this blatantly evil. “I’ve no doubt who it is.”
Hortensia rose from her chair, a resigned expression on her face. “I suspected Mr. Hazen myself, but we have no proof, my dear. Whoever performed this nefarious act covered his tracks well.”
“A snake leaves a small trail.”
“That’s true enough, but we must leave the investigating of the matter to the proper authorities. We’re not vigilantes seeking vengeance, we’re temperance workers. And we still have lots of work to do.”
Laurel paled, for she knew that when Chance found out what had happened, he wasn’t going to wait for any investigator’s conclusions. He would jump to the same one she had. “It’s not me you need to worry about, Hortensia. It’s Chance. I’m worried what he’ll do when he discovers what happened.”
Hortensia sighed so deeply that her bosoms shook. “He’s already found out. He was like a raving lunatic, Laurel. I’m afraid your concerns are justified. He’s been pacing outside the office for the past thirty minutes.
“Chance is here? May I see him?”
“Only for a few moments. The doctor wants you to rest for the remainder of the day, and Mr. Rafferty’s demeanor is not conducive to peace and tranquility.”
“You know him well, Hortensia, for not knowing him long.”
The older woman’s smile was kind but thoughtful. “A man like your Mr. Rafferty burns hot and quick. Women are attracted to men like that, like moths are attracted to flames. But like the moth, if you venture too close to the fire, you’re going to get burned.
“I may be an old woman now, my dear, but I was young once, and I’ve had my share of . . . fires.” She blushed becomingly. “Unfortunately, I learned that fires burn out quickly, leaving only ashes in their aftermath. Be careful you don’t get burned, Laurel.”
CHAPTER 20
“Dammit, Laurel! You could have been killed. When are you going to stop all this nonsense and move back here?”
“Mr. Chance be right this time, Miss Laurel,” Bertha agreed. “That Mr. Hazen ain’t going to stop till you’s dead. And, honey, I don’t rightly think I could stand living if that happened.”
Laurel had heard this argument many times since yesterday’s fire. She smiled at the two emotional individuals, knowing that their harshness stemmed from concern rather than anger, then continued stirring cream into her coffee as she breathed in the tantalizing aroma of frying bacon.
Laurel had come to the Aurora for breakfast at Chance’s insistence that Bertha wouldn’t be convinced of her well-being until she looked upon Laurel’s face herself and saw that she was all right. And hard as the black woman had hugged her, Laurel thought Chance had told the truth. Her ribs still ached from the heartfelt embrace.
“As you can both see, I came through the fire with nary a singed hair. And I have no intention of giving up my work with the league. What would you have me do—go back to work singing in a saloon? That’s not exactly a job without peril. Or are you forgetting that incident with Shooter Davis?”
The fierce light in Chance’s eyes indicated that he remembered the incident with exacting clarity. He stood quickly, scraping the floorboards with his chair. “You’re being unreasonable, Laurel. I can protect you here. But while you live at that boarding hotel, you’re at the mercy of every lunatic in this city.”
“You’re the only lunatic, as far as I’m concerned, Chance Rafferty. I’m not coming back to work here and that’s final.”
Noting the pulse pounding at his temples, and fearing that Chance was about to say something he’d soon regret, Bertha grasped his arm. “Why don’t you go fetch Jup and Whitey, Mr. Chance? I’m about done frying this bacon, and we’ll be eating breakfast directly.”
He stared at Laurel, seemed about to say something, but nodded in compliance. “Fine. But we’re not finished discussing this, Laurel. Just remember that.” He stormed out of the kitchen.
Bertha shook her head in dismay. “That man’s got hisself a temper when it comes to you, Miss Laurel.”
“He burns hot,” Laurel found herself saying, remembering Hortensia’s warning with some uneasiness.
“I guess you could say that, child,” Bertha agreed, placing large ceramic platters of bacon and sausage in the center of the table. The pungent aroma made Laurel’s mouth water.
“You know that man wouldn’t be saying nothin’ if he didn’t care, don’t you?”
“I know he cares, Bertha. But I’m a grown woman and I have to make my own decisions. And you know better than anyone why I made the decision I did.”
The two women exchanged a meaningful look, then Bertha said, “He misses you, honey. We all do. And we’s worried about your well-being. Jup was half crazy last night when he heard about the fire. And my poor Whitey started crying like a babe, thinkin’ you was dead.”
Tears filled Laurel’s eyes at the image, but she blinked them away. “Please, don’t make me feel any more guilty than I already do. Until Chance proposes marriage, I will continue my work with the league. And I’m not about to cower to Al Hazen’s threats or attempts to intimidate me. My mama taught me to stand up to bullies.”
“But, honey, how you gonna do that? You is just one little girl.”
“I’m tougher than you think, Bertha. I stood up to Chance, didn’t I?”
Bertha rolled her eyes heavenward and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Give me patience, Lord. This here girl is stubborn as the hind end of a mule.”
“If you ask me, Bertha Tubbs, Chance is the one you should be praying for. He’s the one who’s stubborn as a mule; and twice as unreasonable as any normal man should be.”
Her hands raised in supplication, Bertha shook her head. “If there is one thing I knows without a doubt, it’s that you two young’ns deserve one another. And the good Lord help you both when you finally come together, ’cause there’s going to be sparks flying in Heaven that day.”
* * *
Having returned Laurel to the boarding hotel, Chance wasted no time in heading for the Silver Slipper to have it out with Hazen. If the pimp thought he’d escape unscathed this time, he had another think coming.
“Where’s Hazen?” Chance demanded of the bartender as he stepped into the saloon, banging his fist on the bar. “And don’t tell me he’s left town, because I know the bastard’s here.”
Zeke Mullins nodded toward the stairs. “First door on the right. B
ut he’s not alone.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me.”
As Zeke watched the angry gambler take the steps two at a time, he felt glad that Al would get the comeuppance he was due. For all the terrible things he’d done to Crystal and for his nasty treatment of Laurel Martin, Al deserved to be taken apart limb by limb, and Chance was just the man to do it.
Rafferty wasn’t the kind of man to abuse women or tolerate it in others. And he wasn’t the kind of man who would turn the other cheek when one of his own was threatened or mistreated. Zeke was counting on that.
Rubbing his hands together, the bartender chuckled to himself. Hazen was in for a big surprise. Zeke just wished he could see the bastard’s face when Rafferty went bursting through the door.
Occupied in their lovemaking, neither Al nor Pearl noticed the tall man who crept stealthily toward the bed, until the cold silver blade of a knife was pressed against Al’s derriere.
“My, my, what a charming sight, and such an interesting target.”
“Chance!” Pearl exclaimed loudly, her eyes rounding at the sight of the knife and the man who held it.
“Morning, Pearl. Looks like you’ve landed on your feet again—or should I say your back.” His look of pure contempt made Pearl wince.
Al froze like a deer caught in a hunter’s gun sight, his face whitening to match the sheets he lay upon. “Rafferty, you bastard! What do you think you’re doing here? Get the hell out of my room.” With more courage than he usually displayed, Al suddenly flattened and rolled over, giving Chance an even more interesting target.
Ignoring the man’s frightened gasp, Chance’s look was deadly as he pressed the sharp tip of the knife against one of Hazen’s testicles. “I know you were behind the fire at Costello’s boarding hotel, Hazen, and when I get the proof I need, I’m going to see you put away for a long, long time. Or,” he said, reconsidering, “I could take matters into my own hands now and castrate you for the evil deeds you’ve done.”
Al shut his eyes and cringed in fear as the tip pressed deeper, making Chance laugh. “It’s not easy being intimidated, is it, Hazen?” Lowering the knife, he took a step back. “You disgust me, you cowardly bully.”
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