“Then there’s me.” Clark smiled. “I’ll make you regret ever coming to work here. The law won’t know. I’ll be able to do anything I want.” His gaze caught on a name written beneath Georgette’s.
Adam Horan. The idiot who’d shot Amethyst.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Were you bribed?” Clark hissed. The clerk might not know anything other than to cross off her name and pretend he hadn’t seen her.
If Adam Horan took Amethyst, he couldn’t have gotten far. Clark darted toward the stairs. He’d start with the top floor and work his way down. If he pretended to be a disgruntled brother seeking his errant sister, he might get into the rooms.
The Horan idiot heaved her over his shoulder. She tried to buck against him with her legs, but he laughed.
“Can’t keep you here while I get the army. Someone might come looking.” He worked the window open. “We’ll just head on down and see what we have in the cellar. Once it gets dark, I’ll take you to my warehouse. You’ll be nice and safe, little dead speaker.”
She caught a glimpse of a fire escape out his window and swallowed hard. Clark wouldn’t be able to find her in a warehouse.
lark leaned against the last door on the third floor and whistled a tune. With no one in sight still, he’d be free to pick the final lock. If anyone did come along, he could shield the picks with his body to make it look as if he was getting into his own room.
He’d knocked first at each door and only found one couple inside. The man had answered the door, and beyond him, Clark had seen a woman fixing her hat in the vanity mirror.
“My sister said she was visiting a friend up here,” Clark had said. “I beg your pardon.”
“No trouble.” The older man had smiled as he shut the door. Definitely not Adam Horan.
The lock clicked and Clark pushed the final door open. Someone had left a leather trunk near the bed and a jacket spread over the pillow. Amethyst and Adam didn’t hide in the shadows of the empty room.
Clark scowled and slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to jerk his knuckles, but not dent the wood. When he found Adam, there wouldn’t be much left of that bastard.
Adam tossed Amethyst onto a sack of grain behind a closed barrel. Breath whooshed from her lungs as her body jerked against the hardness. The gag slipped down her lips enough for her to spit it out.
“You idiot,” she panted. The only light in the cellar came from the doors to the outside that Adam had left open. “You don’t think someone’s going to find me in the bloody cellar?”
Adam snorted. “My father owns plenty of inns. The cellars are storage. They aren’t frequented that often. Your father doesn’t own inns?”
Not that she knew of. Amethyst wriggled around to face him from the floor. Dust tickled her nose, so she pressed her tongue into the roof of her mouth to keep from sneezing. Feet stomped upstairs and someone played a violin. Men laughed and shouted.
They wouldn’t hear her—or care—if she screamed from below.
Her heart raced. “Don’t do this, Adam.” She’d never been kidnapped in the city. Since moving to the west, it had happened twice.
“I’ll move you to the warehouse once things calm down outside. Can’t have anybody seeing you.”
“You really think this will work?” Pressure beat at her skull. If he got her to the warehouse, he could hide her body where no one would find it. The Horans would go unpunished. “A ransom—”
“I have more than enough money,” Adam interrupted. “Won’t it put a kink in Treasure’s gears to lose his little honey?”
“They’ll know it was you!” Somehow.
“I paid that clerk enough to keep him living large. He won’t squeal. No one saw me. No one’s knowing anything, sugar.” He leaned against the barrel. “Let’s adjust that gag now. We’ll sit here nice and quiet for a while, just you and me.”
The raw heat in his gaze made her body stiffen.
Clark stepped into the stable and kicked his boots against the dirt floor for attention. Dust motes hung in the air.
A boy in breeches looked up from grooming a dappled horse. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Looking for my sister.” The five horses glanced at him from their stables. They would look more panicked if Adam had dragged Amethyst inside. Knowing her, she wouldn’t have gone like a placid young woman. Clark could picture her digging her heels into the floor and thrashing.
“Haven’t seen her.” The boy switched the currycomb to his other hand. “Most girls don’t come out here.”
“Where are the servants and coaches? She might’ve gotten something left behind.”
“The building out back.” The groom nodded over his shoulder. “The servants sleep over the motorcar garage.”
“Thank you. If you see her, please let her know she’s needed inside.” He backed out from the stable. If the groom saw something, he might report it.
Heading toward the yard behind, Clark glanced at the inn, noticing the closed storm cellar doors.
He hadn’t realized the inn had a basement.
Amethyst wiggled to escape Adam’s fingers as he worked at the latches on her corset. In the darkness with the doors shut, she couldn’t make out his expression. No one had ever touched her so intimately without her permission. How dare he? She would have kicked him if he hadn’t bound her ankles.
“Where you going, sugar?” His breath stank of garlic. “We’ll just have a little fun. You’ll like it.”
One of the doors creaked open, followed by the other. She twisted her head to see who stepped on the stairs with a light tread. Adam stilled above her, his breath suddenly rasping. The offensive hand slapped over her gagged mouth.
“Keep still,” he hissed in her ear.
Right, as if she would listen to her captor. Amethyst thrashed hard enough to knock the barrel with her heels before his hand bit into her thigh. It didn’t tip—darn it. She bucked to knock him off, but he gripped harder. His other hand clamped around her throat. Lights exploded in her vision.
He would choke her if she didn’t draw enough attention.
Panting around his vice, she wiggled her hips to roll away. He tightened his grip on her throat. No more breath. Her lungs burned. The lights faded into blackness. She stilled. There would be another chance once he released her.
“You’re dead.” He bit her ear and the pain snapped down her nerves.
What, he would kill her now? Had she irritated him that much?
Something ripped the barrel aside and it struck the floor, rolling. Someone yanked Adam up. Since he held her, she went with him. With her ankles bound, her knees gave out and she slumped forward. A fist connected with flesh and Adam’s head jerked to the side. His hands released her and she thumped back onto the sack bag.
“Adam Horan,” Clark snarled.
Amethyst coughed around her gag as she fought for fresh breath. He’d come. He wouldn’t let Adam kill her.
“The Treasure bastard.” In the light through the cellar doors, she could see Adam rubbing the side of his face where Clark must’ve struck.
Clark lunged forward with his fist. Adam sidestepped and blocked with his forearm. Amethyst wriggled around on the sack and craned her head to see better, the muscles in her neck on fire and her heartbeat racing. Would Adam kill Clark? Maybe Clark couldn’t die.
“You don’t really belong with the Treasures.” Adam paced backward as Clark came at him again. She noticed his eyebrows drawn and his mouth parted, as if about to snap the Horan son’s head off.
“Clark.” The word emerged muffled and broken from behind the gag.
“This girl’s wanted by the military,” Adam panted. Good, he should be out of breath like the state he’d forced on her. “We can get a nice old reward. She should be dead anyway.”
Clark jumped into a roundhouse kick and caught Adam’s shoulder, knocking the older boy into a stack of crates. Wood cracked and splintered. Adam waved his arms and legs as he fought to stand
. Clark pulled the pistol from his belt and fired two bullets into Adam’s chest. He jerked, and blood darkened the wood.
Adam slumped into the floor.
Clark shoved his pistol into the holster and lifted her against his chest while he sawed off the ropes around her wrists using a pocketknife. She squeezed her eyes shut. He’d killed Horan’s son.
Adam had tried to murder her twice.
Could she ever be strong enough to shoot someone?
He worked at her ankle bounds. “You’re fine? He didn’t cut you?”
She shook her head against his neck. Although her hands were free, her arms felt numb. They were too heavy, as if leaden. Clark pushed the gag down to her neck.
“What did he do?” She couldn’t make out his face with the light behind him.
“He was….” She gulped, her mouth dry. “Someone will come.”
People still laughed upstairs. Boots thumped the floor and music played. They might not have heard the bullets, or cared, but someone would go into the cellar at some point.
“They’ll know you did it,” she whispered. “Horan won’t stop until you’re hung for murder. We have to bury him. Burn him!” Someone might dig up the body, but ashes…
Clark grabbed the side of her head and kissed her; his tongue forced through her lips to coil around hers. He bit her lower lip and trailed kisses across her cheek.
She lay limp against him, her body still immovable.
“I’ll take you upstairs. I’ll tell your mother you have a headache and don’t feel like eating. We’ll bring you something back.” His kisses continued across her throat. She couldn’t taste good. Adam had been rolling her on the floor.
Someone had died in front of her. She had died before.
“We’ll leave before anyone comes.” He lifted her into his arms and she leaned against his shoulder.
He would take care of her, and she would do anything for him.
Clark rolled onto his back and stared at the hotel room’s ceiling. Someone would find the broken crates in the cellar, Adam Horan’s body next to them. The stable boy knew Clark had been looking for his sister, but no one else had paid attention to him. The clerk might voice an opinion, but that would expose his role in a kidnapping. The proof lay in the crossed off name.
A knock came to the hotel room door. Clark shifted onto his side and peered through the darkness; the only light came the full moon outside the window. Adam Horan might’ve had an accomplice. Willing his heartbeat to slow, Clark slid his legs from beneath the sheets and pressed his bare feet against the floor. He’d slept in his silk shorts, so he adjusted the drawstring waist to keep it tied and lifted his pistol off the bedside table.
He cocked the weapon and slid his finger over the trigger. It might be nothing, or something serious. Clark tiptoed to the door and reached it as the knock sounded again.
“Yes?” He coughed when his voice sounded hoarse.
Another knock. He unhooked the inner latch and eased the door open a crack.
Amethyst’s pale face turned up at him. A brocade robe tied around her, the sash knotted. A lace camisole peeked up from the top.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.
He pulled her against his chest and shut the door, keeping one arm around her back. For a month after the army had killed his mother, he had wanted someone near him, anyone he could trust. A companion, a hero. After that month, he’d preferred solitude. Being alone kept him safe.
“I know,” he said against her unbound hair. She’d sent for a bath, and her skin smelled of lemon balm.
Clark eased her back to the bed and set his pistol on the table. She shouldn’t be alone. Adam Horan was gone, they thought. She’d told Clark how Adam had thought she had Clark’s ability. Adam might’ve told someone else, although that was doubtful. He wouldn’t have wanted to share the information.
Amethyst dropped her hands to her sash as though to undress.
“No.” He kissed her forehead. “Stay clothed.” She might think he’d rather have her naked, might want to pay him with sex.
“Just the robe?” The plea emerged so plaintive, it could have come from a child. The flirtatious tease had passed from her.
He untied it from her. “If it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable.” With the moonlight behind her, he could make out the curve of her thighs through the silk skirt that ended at her knees.
She crawled to the far side of the bed and rested her head against his pillow. He stretched beside her and pulled the blankets up to their shoulders. Clark stroked the hair away from her face.
“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll look after you.”
She nodded and pressed closer to curl against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her tighter.
He might not have a hero, but he could be hers.
t last,” Georgette sighed as she stepped down from the coach. “I never used to hate traveling so much. It makes my bones feel weary now.”
Clark averted his gaze to the sky. If his father hadn’t given him the task, Georgette wouldn’t have been dragged into visiting Donald Burrows. “The weather is pleasant.” That should count for a bit.
“Agreed,” Georgette murmured.
“And I’m sure Mr. Burrows will enjoy the visit.” Amethyst reached for Clark’s hand so he could help her hop down. “I do so love traveling.”
“You should come home more often,” Georgette said with ice in her voice. “We miss you when you’re forever in the east.”
Clark bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Amethyst’s scowl.
The gravel driveway led to a brick mansion with five stories. A vineyard spread beyond that, with outbuildings and a long stable.
“The wine business?” Clark questioned. He would need Eric to tell him where the guns were kept. “The basement” didn’t provide enough details. Workers in white blouses and flowing slacks moved amongst the grape vines in the field. Good—they could stay out there and be less of a hindrance.
“Donald Burrows has always loved wine.” Georgette smiled as she rested her hand on Clark’s arm. “Your father and I were friends with him when we lived in the city. He always had a glass with every meal. His entire home was covered in wine bottles and cork furniture. Such a sight!”
Clark kissed her cheek to hide his grin. She hadn’t been lying when she referenced his father. According to Eric, they’d all been friends in the city.
“I couldn’t wait to come out here to start my own vineyard,” a man’s voice drifted from the mansion. Clark turned toward him, instinct forcing his arm across Georgette’s path. Without faltering, she brushed it aside and stepped forward, lifting her hands.
“Donald,” she cooed. “I’m glad this visit had been suggested. It really has been too long.”
A tall man with a short gray beard and thick eyebrows strolled down the stone steps, the front double doors open behind him. He wore a top hat with a peacock feather protruding from the brim and a suit that shone with silk. The silver head of an eagle flashed on his cane.
He kissed both of Georgette’s gloved hands. “As soon as you and Garth mentioned moving west, I knew I had to join in. I’ve never regretted leaving the city.”
Georgette laughed. “Tell that to my daughter.”
“I can never have enough of the city.” Amethyst swung her arm through Clark’s and leaned against his side. “This is a beautiful vineyard, though.”
Georgette narrowed her eyes and Clark bit the inside of his cheek to avoid snickering. Where was Amethyst’s biting remark? Could she be as nervous as he was in stealing the weapons?
Donald pecked Georgette’s lips before extending his hands to Clark and Amethyst. “I remember you from your childhood, Amethyst. You’ve become a striking young woman.” He tapped his cane against his shoe. “Clark. I’m pleased to meet you. Georgette and Garth both sent me letters in regards to this trip, so I understand your background. I won’t bring it up again.”
Of cour
se he understood the background. The Treasures would’ve mentioned the fact he was Eric’s bastard, not Garth’s. “I appreciate that.”
Once, he’d considered the wealthy to be pompous fools who took every chance to beat the poor down, Garth Treasure included, although slightly above the pact. His father could’ve stayed to help his mother. Now, seeing the Treasures for their kindness, and Donald for his genuine smile, Clark’s mind wavered. They’d made the best of their circumstances and it had brought them wealth. They might have had a head start through family privilege, but they hadn’t squandered their good luck.
“I hope my dear friends aren’t too tired for tonight’s celebration.” Donald headed toward his house.
“What celebration might that be?” Georgette asked as she followed.
Donald paused in his doorway. “To welcome all of you to Hawk Valley. No visit can start right without a party.”
That would be a perfect time to sneak away. Clark squeezed Amethyst’s elbow.
“Sir?” she sang on cue. “May we have a tour of the vineyard? I’ve never been to one before. Your house looks amazing, as well.”
“You were here many times as a child, but you were so small, I’m sure you don’t remember.” He pointed his cane at Clark. “Clark deserves to see all the land. We can eat the noon meal and get started.”
Clark started toward the stairs, Amethyst still leaning against him and humming, with a skip in her step, when his father shimmered into existence beside Donald.
“Son.” Eric stared at him with his blackened eyes. “This man was one of my dearest friends. Be kind to him and show him the most respect you can.”
Clark nodded. Eric had trusted Donald to keep his weapons. He would give this man his due.
After a luncheon in the garden, Donald took Amethyst and Clark on a tour of the yard—Georgette chose to freshen—and the main rooms of the mansion.
“Tomorrow morning, we can ride through the vineyards. I have wonderful thoroughbreds. Racehorses are one of my hobbies. I can’t work on wine all the time.” Donald laughed, his cane clicking the parlor floor. “Should we retire now until the festivities tonight? They start at six.”
Treasure, Darkly (Treasure Chronicles Book 1) Page 15