Rico (The Rock Creek Six Book 3)

by Lori Handeland

  “Me?” Rico put his hand over his heart. “Hurt by a woman? Capitan, you know me better than that.”

  “Do I? Sometimes I wonder. But there’s more to Lily and Johnny than Lily and Johnny are saying.”

  “We all got our secrets. That should be the motto of the great state of Texas: Got a Secret? Come Hide It Here.”

  “You never shared any secrets with me.” Rico fought not to squirm like one of the children under Reese’s too observant gaze. “Makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

  Since Rico’s secret would lose him Carrie, he didn’t answer, and since one of the rules of their friendship had always been Don’t ask, Reese didn’t.

  “Sooner or later Johnny is going to have to stand up for himself,” Reese said. “He’ll have to face his past, whatever it is, if he wants a future—here or anywhere else.”

  Rico wasn’t foolish enough to believe they were talking about Johnny anymore.

  Chapter 10

  The gala grand opening of Three Queens occurred on a Saturday night. Considering how little money they’d had to spend on improvements, the place looked mighty fine to Lily’s eyes.

  Because it was her place.

  Lily leaned over the railing on the second floor and took in the entire first level. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used those words. Maybe she never had.

  The shack where she’d lived with her mother had not been hers. Lily had not let it be. Then the parade of other dwellings, some little more than boards in the wind, while she’d endured wherever and however she could, had not been hers, either. Nor had any of the saloons she’d sung in for R.W.

  Betty Lillian might have existed before coming to Rock Creek. Now Lily Fortier planned to live.

  Excitement made her stomach dance. New name, new life, fresh chance—she was going to make the most of every single one.

  Then there were the new and confusing relationships. Her employees. Her friends. Her brother—even if he wasn’t. Carrie, who wasn’t hers, but rather Rico’s. And Rico—who was no one’s, except maybe Carrie’s.

  Rico had taken to the management job as if he’d been born to it. When she’d hired him, she’d figured he would be the muscle, maybe the knife or the gun. Whatever it took to keep groping hands off her ankles while she sang. But Rico had been indispensable in readying the place, showing an amazing aptitude for organization and detail that had always been beyond Lily and did not seem like Rico at all.

  She doubted he’d believe her, but she couldn’t have made this opening occur with the grace and verve she desired if he hadn’t helped her.

  Rico glanced up as if he’d felt her watching him. He did that a lot. Probably because she watched him a lot. She couldn’t help herself.

  The heat of his gaze brushed her throat, then the sliver of skin revealed by the neckline of her loose robe. She couldn’t wait until she put on the dress Kate had made. Her entire body went liquid at the thought of Rico’s seeing her in that dress, then, later, maybe helping her out of it.

  He turned away without a word or a smile. She’d insulted him, beyond redemption it seemed, and she had no idea how to change that.

  Seduction, perhaps, but seduction was as beyond her understanding as the reason why she kept mooning over a man who wanted nothing to do with her. Lily wasn’t accustomed to men’s indifference.

  “Rico!” He caught Carrie in mid-leap, spinning the child about as they laughed. She was filthy again, had no doubt been making mud pies in her bright yellow dress.

  Even though Carrie could barely keep her distaste from her face and voice whenever she spoke to Lily, Lily found herself drawn to the girl as she’d never been drawn to another child before, as she’d never let herself be drawn. In that direction lay danger. Children were not for her; she’d better not start dreaming of any.

  “Muchacha, look at you.” Rico set Carrie on the floor and tweaked her nose. “You had best jump in the bath Yvonne has for you, then put on your brand-new dress.”

  “Another dress? Yuck!”

  “But you will look beautiful. For me, si?”

  She sighed as if he’d asked her to take the weight of the world upon her small shoulders. “Si.” She trudged to the kitchen.

  The love on Rico’s face shone so deep and true. Lily was starting to like him as well as want him, and she did not know what to do about that.

  After making her way to her room, Lily wrestled her waist-length, wavy black hair into an elegant twist that would display her neck, shoulders, and tastefully bared cleavage to the best advantage in the new ivory silk dress.

  Kate and Laurel had proved brilliant dressmakers. It was only a matter of time until they opened their own business, and Lily would have to hire more help.

  Lily stepped into her stockings and affixed them to her garters—one specially altered to hold a derringer. Then she strapped her knife to the retractable sheath, setting both aside to attach to her wrist after she was completely dressed.

  Her ivory gloves would cover it, though if she had to use the knife, they would be ruined. With Rico and Johnny about, she shouldn’t need the weapon. Still, she’d been faced with countless rooms filled with men, and she knew better than to depend on anyone but herself when things got nasty.

  Lily reached for the dress, and her fingers encountered something cold, smooth, and mobile. She yanked her hand back and stared at the coiled black-and-white snake on the bed. A milk snake. Large but harmless, thank God.

  She opened her door, shouted, “Rico!” and picked up the snake, one hand at the head, another below the coils, then stepped into the hall just as Rico pounded up the stairs.

  Despite the snake in her grasp, his eyes heated, and he stared at her as if he wanted to push her against the wall and finish what they’d started several times before. Only then did she realize she stood in her corset, stockings, and garters alone. While Lily was gratified to learn he didn’t despise her so much that he no longer wanted her, she really did need to get rid of the snake.

  “You want to take this?” She lifted the snake and moved it about to gain his attention.

  He blinked a few times. “Where did that come from?”

  “The river, most likely. I found it on my bed.”

  He accepted the reptile, as Carrie appeared at the top of the steps, scowling, and Lily knew how the snake had gotten into her room.

  Lily had lived in a house where large, deadly cottonmouths lounged as if they owned the place. It would take more than a lethargic milk snake to get rid of her.

  “I thought women didn’t like snakes,” Carrie said.

  Rico narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m not most women.”

  “I’ll say.” Rico hurried down the stairs.

  Lily and Carrie contemplated each another down the length of the hall.

  “How come you didn’t scream and cry?”

  “When I was a little girl, a snake like that would have been supper.” Carrie turned an interesting shade of green. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.”

  Carrie lowered her head in acknowledgment. Lily did the same.

  This meant war.

  * * *

  “Madre de Dios, the woman is trying to kill me.” Rico hurried for the river.

  After a frantic day of last-minute preparations that had followed several days of backbreaking building and lifting, Rico could honestly say he’d never worked harder in his life.

  Folks sent odd glances at the snake, but they greeted Rico by name. Rock Creek was more of a home than any other place had ever been.

  The sun slid toward sleep and shadows spread across the water like the fingers of a mythical giant. He tossed the snake into the shade at the river’s bend. Rico knelt and let the spring-cool liquid lap at his wrists and calm his runaway heart.

  Lily was not for him. Now that he worked for her, how could he ever make love to her and not feel bought and paid for? Foolish, perhaps, but he had little to be proud of in his life—at least he’d ne
ver sold his greatest gift for money.

  Rico ducked his head beneath the water. As soon as he closed his eyes, the image of Lily as he’d seen her last appeared in his mind—white corset, stockings, garters nearly the same shade as her porcelain skin, hair pinned up so primly, he’d itched to yank it free and bury his face in the soft curls. Her cheeks had flushed rose, her lips tilting as no other woman’s would be with a great black-and-white snake in her hands.

  He threw back his head, spraying droplets of water all over his shirt. He needed to return to Three Queens and change clothes in preparation for the big night. Instead, he sat on the damp earth at the edge of the river and watched the sun die.

  She’d offered herself to him, and he’d turned her down. Idiota! Maybe if he’d taken her, he wouldn’t still want her with a need that hummed in his blood every time he heard her voice or smelled that haunting combination of white spring trees and red summer flowers.

  But if he took Lily as he wanted, as she wanted, would the crushing despair that came from knowing she thought him no more than a decorative ornament, no better than a bauble to be worn on her exquisite throat or hung from her lovely ears, ever leave him? Would he become what she thought he was with no hope of ever becoming more?

  Why had he started to wish for more? Because of a child’s simple faith? Or had this restlessness begun when a woman made him wonder if he’d ever be more than his father had predicted?

  A worthless, useless, pretty-as-a-picture embarrassment to the name of Salvatore.

  * * *

  Lily was ready an hour before Three Queens was set to open. She was so nervous she could not eat. She knew better than to drink. So she paced.

  “Everything will be fine,” Yvonne assured her. “This place is finer than anything anyone’s ever seen in these parts.”

  “You mean it’s too much?”

  Lily’s panicked gaze flittered about the room. They’d cleaned the tables, mended the walls, scrubbed the floor. The curtains, lace and velvet, were nothing special, but very different from what had been there before. Which was nothing. Would the folks in and about Rock Creek be intimidated?

  “I didn’t say it was too much.” Yvonne polished faster than usual. She was nervous, too. “I said the place is fine. Sit down, Lily.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then don’t. But get away from me.”

  One thing Lily liked about Yvonne, she always knew where she stood with the woman. Right now Yvonne wanted to smack her stupid.

  The girls appeared in brand-new dresses they’d made for themselves. Kate wore pink and Laurel blue. Their grins went from ear to ear. They’d never had new clothes, and they’d never worn anything that didn’t reveal more of them than it hid.

  Lily had made sure they were covered adequately, to befit their jobs as servers and nothing else. More had changed in this saloon than the name, and Lily would make certain everyone knew that.

  Johnny clattered down the stairs wearing a brand-new starched white shirt and black trousers held up by red suspenders. He looked older for the clothes, but with his hair still wet and slicked back, he still looked too young to be playing piano in a saloon.

  Lily experienced a twinge. He should be going to school and fooling with his friends at the river, spooning with girls and attending church socials. Instead, he would play piano until well after midnight and sleep through church tomorrow.

  Johnny took Lily’s hands, drawing them wide so he could look her over with a critical eye.

  “Will I do?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. Lily laughed and ran her fingers through his hair. “If things go very well, maybe I can hire another piano player.” His grin faded. “Not that you aren’t the best there ever was, Johnny, but you should be a kid for a while.”

  “He’s not a kid.” Carrie stood with her hands on her hips, lip stuck out in Johnny’s defense. Even with the scowl, she looked adorable.

  Kate had used the leftover material from Lily’s dress to fashion another for Carrie. Not so fancy, of course, but perfect for a child—high neck, puffy sleeves, full skirt, and gloves. Carrie looked like a doll—if you ignored the rat’s nest in her hair and the smudge of mud in her ear.

  “School’s out soon,” Carrie said. “Then he can play piano at night, and I’ll help him with his reading in the day.”

  “You have this all worked out?”

  “Course. You can’t take away the music, Lily. It’s his favorite thing. How would you feel if a big, fat, ugly lady told you that you couldn’t sing?”

  Lily narrowed her eyes. “A big, fat, ugly lady?”

  “Yeah.” The little tyrant scrunched up her nose and glared. “They’re all over the place.”

  “I can imagine. I guess I wouldn’t like it at all.” She took Johnny’s hand. “We’ll just leave things as they are. I wouldn’t want to sing to anyone’s music but yours, cheri.”

  Johnny squeezed her hand and her nervousness fled. His serenity always had that effect.

  “Lily, the place looks wonderful!” Eden and Mary, dressed in their Sunday best, stood in the doorway, beaming at her as if she’d just done the most clever thing imaginable instead of refurbishing the town saloon. Their husbands crowded in behind them, uncomfortable despite their having been in the place a hundred times before. Their eyes flicked from the shiny lanterns glowing merrily at intervals along the wall to the sparkling glasses and full crystal bottles behind the bar.

  “Oh, brother,” Sullivan murmured. “Cash...”

  “Isn’t going to like this,” Reese finished.

  “It’s a good thing he is gone, then, si?”

  The sight of Rico rendered Lily speechless. Had she called him decorative? He was downright poetic.

  The starched white of his shirt sparkled against his olive skin, black hair, and ebony eyes. The black vest and tight black pants emphasized his lean, muscular build. But what really made it difficult for Lily to breathe was the way he’d rolled up his cuffs to bare his tanned, sinewy forearms and left open the top three buttons of his shirt to reveal the smooth, supple chest she enjoyed looking at far too much.

  “The place is Lily’s,” he said. “She won it with three queens, fair and square. Cash has nothing to say about it.”

  Fair? Maybe. But square?

  That was neither here nor there. As long as R.W. never found her, fair and square didn’t count for beans and barley.

  “Senorita.” Rico held out his arm. “It is time for you to prepare for the stage.”

  Sullivan snorted, but Reese shot him a look that stifled any further comment as Rico led Lily away.

  “Oh, brother,” Sullivan said again.

  “You got that right,” Reese murmured.

  Chapter 11

  In the small curtained room to the rear of the stage the familiar sounds of a gathering crowd filled the air. But how big a crowd?

  Opening night could make or break a place. Lily had no doubt she could eke out a living for herself and Johnny by running a saloon and gambling establishment, but she wanted so much more for them both. As Carrie had asked, how would she feel if she could not sing? So awful she did not want to think about it.

  Singing was part of her, just as the piano was part of Johnny. Singing was the one thing she did better than any other, the one thing that made her special in a world that didn’t see her as special at all.

  “It is time, senorita.”

  Rico’s soft, lightly accented voice caused her breath to catch nearly as much as the sight of him so near when she had not heard his approach. “You never call me Lily anymore.”

  He lifted one shoulder, the movement pulling his shirt tight. The darker shade of his skin shone through the white material. “It does not seem appropriate when you are my boss.”

  “And when Reese was your boss you called him senor?”

  Rico’s teeth flashed, strong and straight and white. “I called him mi capitan.”

  “Even though he wasn’t.”


  “He was; he simply chose not to admit it.”

  “And I am neither young nor a lady.”

  “You may not think so, but I do.” He beckoned. “Now come; your public is waiting.”

  Lily hung back.

  “You are not afraid? La senorita who battles snakes in her unmentionables.”

  She gave a reluctant smile. “It wasn’t much of a battle.”

  “You amazed Carrie.” He fixed her with a dark, unfathomable gaze. “You amazed me.”

  “I did?” Was that her voice, breathless, as if she’d just been kissed senseless or perhaps ravished in the back room?

  “You do.” He held out his hand. “Come along and amaze them all.” Rico’s fingers closed over hers, and he drew her toward him. When she was so close her skirt brushed his shiny black boots, he whispered, “Lily.”

  The sound of her name made Lily want him all over again. But even as his eyes promised uncertain delights, his body inched away. She followed him to the curtain that concealed them from the audience. She took a deep breath, and it caught in her throat.

  “Are you always this nervous?”

  “Only when the rest of my life depends on something.”

  He kissed her gently on the forehead. “For luck, si?”

  “Si,” she repeated.

  Rico opened the curtain on a room so filled with people, there was barely space left to stand. Lily’s eyes widened until she thought they might pop out and roll around on the stage.

  Rico merely winked and urged her forward. The crowd clapped. Her friends sat in the front row. Yvonne, arms folded, face solemn, stood behind the bar. Then Johnny began to play “I Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair,” and without conscious thought Lily gave herself over to the music that had always saved her before. She became caught in the melody, and the audience must have, too, since they grew quiet. She’d captured them with the words, the tune, her voice, a certain magic.

  Lily and Johnny lured them in, made them theirs. Not a person in the crowd wasn’t snared in the web they spun. They gave something to everyone, from ballads to ditties, songs sung before the war and beyond, and when she finished, Lily knew she’d sung the best she ever had. Perhaps because she’d sung in her place, her way.