The Quick and the Undead: Volume 1 (Tombstone, Texas)

by Kimberly Raye

  “How much did he try to stiff her for?” asked one of the guests.

  “A whopping five cents.” Kit turned back toward the saloon. “Seth Farley, once the most well-known card shark in the state’s history, can still be found warming a table over at the saloon. That is, when he isn’t tending bar and keeping run of the place.” She pointed down the street. “Horse thief Luke Ketchum runs the local livery stable and trains horses on a nearby ranch. Train robber Ethan Dunn owns the local Stage & Freight. Rhett Clancy, also known as the fastest gun in the Lone Star State, looks after the local gunsmith shop. Charismatic cattle rustler “Pretty Boy” Taggart James, a man who could charm a woman even faster than he could pull a gun, is now the local mayor.” Waving at the building that sat next to City Hall, she added, “Hired gun Clay Laramie helps keep the peace as deputy sheriff, and Boone Jarrett, lawman turned bank robber, now serves as sheriff.”

  Riley’s gaze went to the spot where she’d seen the tall, dark and luscious cowboy. He’d already disappeared into the building and her insides tightened in disappointment.

  “What about Ike McCoy? He was the leader of the Ten, right?” The question came from a middle-aged man wearing a cowboy hat and creased jeans just to Riley’s left.

  “Ike died right there.” Kit motioned to the tombstone that sat in the center of the square. “Gunned down in a quick draw contest ages ago, or so the story goes.”

  “My cousin says he’s still alive,” chimed in one woman in a Stetson and hand-stitched boots.

  “I saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel that said he died in a Mexican prison,” offered another.

  “Nobody really knows what happened to him.” Kit shrugged. “But his fellow gang members believe he’s right here. They erected that tombstone in memory of a man who lived by the gun and died by the gun. Speaking of guns . . .” She indicated the old-fashioned looking flier posted on a nearby wall at the entrance to the hotel. “We’re gearing up for our very own quick draw contest. It’s open to any and all guests.”

  “Like in that movie The Quick and The Dead?” asked one man. His expression lit up as Kit nodded. “I flippin’ love that movie. It’s one of the best westerns ever made. Especially the remake they did a few years back.”

  “You’ll get your chance to see some quick draw action firsthand instead of on the big screen,” Kit promised. “You can sign up right here in the square at the welcome hoedown taking place later this evening. In the meantime, feel free to settle into your rooms here at the hotel. You’ll have two hours to unwind before the party starts. Rest up if you like, or head across the street”—she motioned to another clapboard building and a white-washed sign with black lettering that read HOT BATHS ONLY 5 CENTS—“to Miss Delaney’s Bathhouse for a soak, or over to watch Seth deal a deck of cards over at the saloon. Your choice. Now, does anybody have a question?”

  “Will I get to shoot a real gun?”

  “When do I get my deputy’s badge?”

  “Are we going to ride horses?”

  “Yes.” She nodded at the first guest. “Soon. And yes.” Her gaze shifted to Riley. “What about you? Any questions? Remember, this is your fantasy and we aim to please.”

  Another seductive image filled her head, and Riley’s stomach grumbled again. While she knew Tombstone was in the business of fantasies, she knew they weren’t talking the carnal variety. That was her own sex-deprived brain filling in the blanks. She’d been working and traveling nonstop ever since splitting with her ex three years ago, and her abstinence was finally catching up to her. “Um, how’s the cell reception?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid your cell phones won’t work here. We aim to provide an authentic experience. There were no cell phones back in the day, so there are no cell phones now.” The announcement was met with a roll of grumbles through the crowd. “In fact, we don’t allow electronics of any kind in Tombstone.”

  “This sucks,” said one teenager standing with his parents.

  “You’ll survive a week without Call of Duty.”

  “But—”

  “Zip it, Kevin. We’ve already had this talk. This is family time.”

  The kid made a face, but didn’t say another word.

  Riley wasn’t so easily stifled. “But I write a travel blog.”

  Recognition lit Kit’s eyes. “You’re from ExtremeVacations.com, aren’t you? That website that reviews out-of-the-ordinary vacation spots? Places no one’s ever heard of?”

  Riley nodded and the woman to her left piped in. “That website is awesome. My boyfriend and I read about that zip line tour you did through Florida gator country last month. It sounded amazing.”

  Scary was more like it. Riley had nearly crapped her pants more than once. At the same time, it had been exciting, and that was the point. To find the most obscure, thrilling experiences and bring them to the attention of the average vacationer. “If you enjoyed that, you’ll want to watch for the hang gliding tour of the Catskills that’s about to run.” Her gaze shifted back to Kit and her anxiety took over. “My readers expect a daily post. Several, in fact. Surely you have Internet.”

  The hostess shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “You mean there’s no Wi-Fi?” Teenaged Kevin looked ready to bust an artery.

  “What part of ‘no electronics of any kind’ did you not understand?” his mother snapped.

  “But I can’t go an entire week without Wi-Fi—”

  “How are we supposed to communicate with the outside world?” Riley interrupted, her own anxiety amped up as she thought of all the readers she’d gained over the past few years since starting her website. She’d shot to the top of the travel feature sites, and all because she kept things fresh and new and frequent. “What about emergencies?”

  “We do have a land line at City Hall. You’re welcome to make as many phone calls as you like, as long as you keep it to a minimum and share with everyone else.” Kit smiled as if that satisfied the problem. “Any more questions?”

  Riley swallowed against her own rising panic and gave in to the hunger clawing at her stomach. “Any good donut shops in town?”

  Kit shook her head. “I’m afraid not, but the hotel kitchen makes a mean peach cobbler. The peaches are grown on the nearby Double T Ranch, once the biggest working cattle ranch in the state up until the last owner passed away. The place has fallen to ruin, but the good folks here in town aim to revive it to its original glory . . .”

  Peach cobbler? That wasn’t even close to a Krispy Kreme, and Riley’s frustration level jumped several notches.

  She drew a deep breath and tried to remind herself of something positive—namely the fact that she’d packed her favorite vibrator and it was just a matter of time before she could blow off some of the steam burning her up from the inside out.

  All the more reason to steer clear of the cowboy with the badge. She didn’t need a man to keep her satisfied. Especially a strong, hunky alpha man.

  Once upon a time, she’d dreamt of the proverbial white knight riding in to sweep her off her feet and save her from her boring, monotonous, exhausting life.

  She’d been so tired of looking after everyone after her mother passed away. Her younger sister and her father had been almost helpless. Before long, she’d been downright sick of cooking and cleaning and worrying over everyone and everything. She’d welcomed having a strong man waltz in and take charge. A man who could take care of her for a change, the way she’d been taking care of everyone else.

  But the idea of Mr. Alpha and the reality of him had been two very different things.

  It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way. And it was one she had no intention of repeating.

  No matter how good the sheriff looked in his cowboy hat and tight pants.

  Chapter Three

  “IT’S ABOUT TIME you dra
gged your sorry ass into work.” The comment met Boone as soon as he walked into the jailhouse.

  “I had to stop off at the mayor’s office,” he told his deputy, Clay Laramie, who leaned back in his chair, his booted feet propped on the desk as if he’d settled in for a long wait.

  Boone had needed to talk to Mayor Taggart James about the unease creeping up and down his spine, to see if he, too, had sensed anything out of the ordinary.

  Nothing.

  Everything had been as right as rain as far as Tag was concerned, with the exception of his current disagreement with Belle. One of the only two female members of the Tombstone Ten and owner of the local brothel, Belle Cassidy was a permanent twist in Tag’s britches. She’d hated him from the moment Ike had turned her, and she’d opened her eyes to find Tag looming nearby.

  Unlike most of the Ten, Belle had wanted to turn, to trade in her life as a prostitute for that of a powerful female who took what she wanted and stood her ground. What she hadn’t counted on was that Ike would turn Tag as well.

  Tag had been her nemesis back when they’d been human, and turning vampire had only magnified the hatred between them. He’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the son of the town’s mayor and an all-around good guy, and Belle had always resented him for it. People had admired Tag. Respected him.

  Until Ike had turned him into an outlaw.

  “Do you know that she wants to remodel one of her rooms into a topless lounge?” Tag had asked Boone the minute he’d walked into City Hall.

  “Well, it is a brothel,” Boone had reminded his friend.

  “Yes, but we’ve got a reputation to maintain. I don’t care who takes off their top in the privacy of their own room, but we can’t have an entire lounge full of topless people running around. That’s far too public and, therefore, dangerous. We don’t need rumors floating out of here that we’re a choice destination for nudists. Talk about bad press.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “I shouldn’t have to spell it out. She’s a smart woman. She needs to use her brain.”

  “I hope you didn’t tell her that.”

  “Of course, not. I just told her not to be an idiot and that she’d better shut it down, or else she was really going to piss me off.”

  “And you earned her immediate cooperation, right?”

  “Not exactly.” Tag had stiffened. “Jane called from the print shop and said Belle came in with a flyer advertising Tombstone’s first Topless Tea Room. A tea room, as if serving some frou frou Earl Grey makes it perfectly fine to flash your tits . . .”

  Tag had stormed on about Belle and her crazy ideas while Boone had excused himself. He’d headed to the jail, stopping off to mention his concerns to a few more vampires along the way.

  Ethan over at Stage & Freight had felt nothing. Zilch for Luke at the livery stable. Likewise for Rhett at the gunsmith shop.

  “You’re late.” The voice drew Boone’s attention to the vampire currently sitting in front of him.

  Clay Laramie had been Ike’s last turn. He’d been twenty-three at the time, and the youngest of the Ten. Unlike the others, Clay had made a name for himself before Ike had turned him. He’d been one of the best hired guns in Texas. As a vampire, he’d been the best.

  They all had. Where they’d each had a certain skill set before the turning, those skills had been magnified a thousandfold once they’d lost their humanity.

  And that had been Ike’s plan all along. To make them into a gang of super outlaws. Incomparable. Legendary. Deadly.

  They’d been all three. Ike had seen to that. He’d been their leader. Their sire. And he’d called all the shots, whether they’d liked them or not.

  Until the night he’d released them and ridden away without another word.

  That had been over one hundred years ago.

  Could it be Ike that Boone was feeling? Had he come back?

  He forced aside the unease that had been dogging him since he’d left his room at the hotel. “Since when do you watch the clock?” he asked his deputy.

  “Since I’ve been here a whole seven minutes all by my lonesome.”

  “Seven, huh?”

  “Counting the five minutes it took me to walk from the saloon to here,” Clay added, a grin sliding across his face.

  Boone shook his head at his deputy. “Looks like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “Yeah, but at least I have a better reason than you.”

  “A fight at the saloon?”

  Clay grinned again. “A redhead named Bree. It’s her last night in town and I thought I’d give her something to remember me by.” Boone frowned and Clay shrugged, “Don’t go getting your spurs in a twist. I didn’t bite her.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Not this time anyhow.”

  Biting and sex? Talk about a lethal combination, at least to a vampire like Boone who went out of his way to avoid any and all commitment. Sure, he indulged his sexual appetite. But he did it with like-minded women only interested in a one-night stand. Like the one he’d been with earlier. She’d been a guest, eager to add a few sexcapades to her memorable vacation experience and leave town when it was all said and done. A woman who was here today, gone tomorrow. Temporary.

  Like Boone himself.

  He’d come back to Tombstone to help out, but he had no intention of staying permanently. Off and on, yes. But once the place was up and running and drawing a stable profit, he’d be leaving again. Headed back to Austin and the police department where he’d been working for the past few years. Or maybe he’d take that transfer to Houston. Or even New Mexico. Regardless, he had cases waiting for him. Criminals to catch.

  Not that it was the end result that kept him going. Boone liked the thrill of a good chase. The rush that came with the hunting and searching and doing.

  He always had.

  And that was why he and his father had been at odds all those years ago. His father had been too eager to accept his fate while Boone had always wanted to change his. To do something different. To do something, period.

  The restlessness ate away inside of him almost as much as the hunger that perpetually twisted his gut.

  His thoughts turned to the hot little number who’d climbed off the stagecoach only minutes ago, and need pounded through him, even though he should have been more than satisfied after his recent romp with Sara What’s-her-name. One really good fuck was usually enough to keep him going for a solid week at the very least.

  But then he’d seen the new guest and bam, it had hit him. Fast and furious. And now he was aching for a taste.

  Sexually, of course. He certainly wasn’t the least bit tempted to drink from her, too.

  The last thing he needed in his afterlife was a relationship. That’s what biting a woman during sex would mean. She would be under his skin then. In his head. Forever.

  Not no, but hell no.

  If Boone had learned any one thing over the past two hundred years, it was that he sucked at relationships. He’d tried to go back to his life after Ike had turned him, to ignore the incredible truth of what he’d become. He’d wanted to return to his home, to pick up where he’d left off.

  Fat chance.

  He’d been different. Deadly.

  He fought the hunger stirring in his belly and eyed his deputy. “One day, you’re going to find yourself in a world of trouble,” he said.

  “Been there and done that.” The deputy winked. “It ain’t so bad.”

  Because unlike Boone, Clay actually liked being tied to a lot of women. The constant push-pull kept him distracted enough so that he didn’t have to focus on any one in particular.

  “So what’s on the agenda tonight?” Clay asked, obviously ready to change the subject. “Are we busting up a fight at the saloon or locking up cattle thieve
s?”

  “We’ve got the welcome hoedown later. Before that, it’s a gunfight over a shifty hand of cards. Seth will pull his rifle and then send for backup. We’ll show up to save the day. After that, he’ll offer up a free round of drinks.”

  “You mean, if he doesn’t end up cracking some heads for real.” While the saloon brawls were staged by the human actors that the town employed, Seth tended to take his role as saloon owner a tad too seriously. Particularly after he’d been on the no-sex wagon for awhile—which was most of the time since he’d been married to the most wonderful woman back when he’d been human and he couldn’t bring himself to betray her memory. With all that unspent sexual energy, he was constantly on edge. So he was known to crack a few heads every now and then before he managed to remember that the breaking of chairs and tables was a much too expensive way to ease his anxiety.

  “I’ll stop by before the fight gets underway and make sure he knows what to expect. I like this bunch of employees and I would hate to have to start looking for more.” In addition to the nine members of the Ten, Tombstone employed forty-two humans to help run the town. While none of the employees knew that they were working for a group of ancient vampires, they did realize that their bosses were a bit elusive and eccentric.

  Still, those were characteristics they were all willing to overlook as long as the town provided them a nice, generous check and good living accommodations.

  Boone made sure they had both and, as a result, had inadvertently landed Tombstone on the top ten list of Best Places to Work in Texas, published by one of the major Austin papers just last month.

  Great news for a fledgling business, but not so good for the vampires who called Tombstone home. While they had no problems accommodating eighty or so guests at any given time, they weren’t too keen on expanding the operation. Tombstone was a means to an end. A way to make enough money to pay for the surrounding acreage, as well as the upkeep and taxes. They wanted to keep things small. Manageable. Safe.